"In part," Jason said quietly.
"Well, what is it then?"
"Sir, that communication from ConFleet announcing the armistice came through close to fifty minutes before our strike hit the carrier."
Tolwyn exhaled noisily and leaned back in his chair.
"How the hell do you know that, Bondarevsky?" he asked quietly, a threatening chill in his voice. "That message was directed solely to me."
"Sir, Tarawa was the back up carrier for this operation. If something should have happened to Concordia it would have been my job to assume control of the air strikes. In that situation, I took it upon myself to monitor all ConFleet channels and that included yours. Suppose you were hit, sir? It would have then been my job to know the entire picture. I didn't notice it immediately since it was simply decoded and stored in my personal data system. But after the action I was going through the signals to dump them off my system and I saw it."
What Jason was confessing was somewhat outside the regulations but it showed careful planning and foresight on his part. If something had indeed happened to Concordia the young officer before him might very well have to take full responsibility for everything that transpired.
There was an ancient cautionary tale told in the service academies, the incident dating back to a war once fought between England and America. In an encounter between an American and British ship the commanding officer of the American vessel was mortally wounded, and the junior officer took him down below deck to the surgeon. In the short interval that followed all the other officers were hit and, without his even being aware of it, the junior officer was now in command. By the time he returned to the deck his ship had already been battered into submission and forced to surrender after barely putting up a fight. The junior officer was held responsible, court-martialed, and found guilty of dereliction of duty, a duty he was not even aware had suddenly come to rest upon his shoulders. The lesson was part of the tradition and backbone of the fleet — there is no excuse for defeat
Geoff looked at Jason and realized as well that he had made a crucial mistake in not assuming that Jason might very well be listening in.
"And what do you think?" he finally said quietly.
"I lost two crews in that attack, two pilots and a gunner. I'm wondering how their families would feel if they knew their kids got killed after a war was officially over."
Tolwyn nodded and said nothing.
"I don't give a good damn about the furballs," Jason continued, "but five hundred or more of them died when that carrier got cooked. I don't feel too good about that either, sir."
"Neither do I."
"Then why did you do it, sir?"
"I'd rather not say, Jason, but let me ask you a question."
"Sure."
"If this was just another day in the war, how would you feel about taking out that carrier."
"I hate losing people, but trading a Rapier, a Sabre and two of your Broadswords for a light carrier is a damn fine piece of work in my book. I wish it had always been that easy."
Tolwyn nodded.
"That's how I still feel about it, Jason."
"But the war's over. We were hearing the rumors even before this attack started out. Something about a peace party coming into power in the Empire, Prince Thrakhath falling into disgrace, and Foreign Minister Jamison pushing for an armistice. Damn it, sir, they're saying it's finally over and we can go home."
"And do you really believe it?"
Jason hesitated.
"Well, do you?"
"I want to believe it, sir."
"Damn it, man, that's exactly it. You want to believe it. Everyone wants to believe it. But there's a hell of a long stretch between wishing for something and actually seeing it come true. Anyone who believes something simply because it sounds good and he wishes it to be true is a damned fool and that's why I did what I did."
"Sir?"
"This war is not over by a long shot," Tolwyn growled, "and I'll kiss the hairy backside of the first Kilrathi I meet if they can ever prove it differently to me.
"It's too pat, it's too damn straight forward and simple. I remember once hearing a great line about another war, 'this is such madness only an idealist could have started it.' Well, this peace offer is the same thing, only an idealist would be stupid enough to believe it. By God, son, we were finally getting an edge. We stumbled on the tactics of it all thanks to you, realizing just how under-protected and vulnerable their construction sites were. They haven't gotten a single new carrier on line in the last year. They still outnumber us, but they're hurting, hurting even worse with the loss of their transports. We just might be turning the edge in this war, and now the damn fool politicians go for this armistice offer."
"So you disobey orders on your own and decide to keep the war going a little longer."
"The target was there and I took it, a carrier that if we allowed it to get away might cost us fifty to a hundred pilots the next time around," Tolwyn said quietly. "And I think that even you, Jason, who once risked your career to try and save a ship load of Kilrathi civilians, even you down deep agree with me."
Jason drained the rest of the Scotch from his glass and closed his eyes for a moment.
"Yes, sir, I do."
Tolwyn could see the struggle such an answer had created. From most other officers he would have dismissed it as brown nosing a superior but he knew that from Jason it came from the heart.
"Why?"
"Like you said," Jason replied. "It just doesn't smell right. I know that even after Vukar Tag, and the Third Enigma Campaign they still have the edge on us. For the Kilrathi, war is part of the core of their soul. This intel stuff about a shift in the power structure of the palace. If it's true, the new power behind the throne would have his throat ripped out if he tried for a serious peace after all the sacrifices they've endured. Now I don't know much about Kilrathi psychology other than what I got in the naval college while waiting for Tarawa to finish out her refitting, but I know enough that the seeking of peace other than after a total triumph is anathema to them.
"Going for peace is impossible to their mindset. If they were losing there would be only one possible action, a suicidal fight to the end; if they were winning, a fight to ultimate triumph. There is no inbetween. Their society functions primarily through submission to strength, with the one in power gaining complete loyalty by refraining from killing the one who has submitted. But since we are not of the blood, we are therefore inferior, and as such it is impossible to submit to us. There might be exceptions, such as that warrior who serves Hunter, but that was through direct orders from his superior."
"So if the emperor or whomever is behind the emperor orders it, then why not peace?"
"Because the power at the top derives its strength through conflict. They know that if their aggressive instincts are not diverted outwards it will turn inwards and the families will eventually destroy each other. And besides, it's one thing for a lone warrior to submit, but for the highest of noble blood to do so, to submit to someone not of equal blood, is impossible."
"Precisely," Geoff said quietly, inwardly pleased as if a favorite pupil or son had mastered an intricate question.
He felt a flash of warmth for Jason, remembering the relief he felt when he had jumped into the heart of the Empire to pull Tarawa out and discovering that the ship was still alive. He felt the warmth as well because it was Jason who had taken his nephew out to war as a spoiled brat and brought him back as a man.
"This whole thing is a set-up, I'm convinced of it; and I tell you this, Jason, if our government falls for it, all our butts will be in the wringer."
"I best get back to my ship," Jason said quietly and he stood up, putting his glass down on the side table.
"Jason?"
"Sir?"
"What do you plan to do about my violation of orders?"
"If I'm asked about it, sir, I plan to tell the truth." He hesitated. "I have to tell the truth, that you launched an attack after knowing that the initial cease fire had been agreed to. To do anything else would be dishonorable."
Tolwyn smiled.
"You're a good officer, son. I've always been proud of you; I know I always will be."
He extended his hand and Jason took it.
"Let's hope I'm wrong about this armistice, but I know I'm not."
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
"Well, what is it then?"
"Sir, that communication from ConFleet announcing the armistice came through close to fifty minutes before our strike hit the carrier."
Tolwyn exhaled noisily and leaned back in his chair.
"How the hell do you know that, Bondarevsky?" he asked quietly, a threatening chill in his voice. "That message was directed solely to me."
"Sir, Tarawa was the back up carrier for this operation. If something should have happened to Concordia it would have been my job to assume control of the air strikes. In that situation, I took it upon myself to monitor all ConFleet channels and that included yours. Suppose you were hit, sir? It would have then been my job to know the entire picture. I didn't notice it immediately since it was simply decoded and stored in my personal data system. But after the action I was going through the signals to dump them off my system and I saw it."
What Jason was confessing was somewhat outside the regulations but it showed careful planning and foresight on his part. If something had indeed happened to Concordia the young officer before him might very well have to take full responsibility for everything that transpired.
There was an ancient cautionary tale told in the service academies, the incident dating back to a war once fought between England and America. In an encounter between an American and British ship the commanding officer of the American vessel was mortally wounded, and the junior officer took him down below deck to the surgeon. In the short interval that followed all the other officers were hit and, without his even being aware of it, the junior officer was now in command. By the time he returned to the deck his ship had already been battered into submission and forced to surrender after barely putting up a fight. The junior officer was held responsible, court-martialed, and found guilty of dereliction of duty, a duty he was not even aware had suddenly come to rest upon his shoulders. The lesson was part of the tradition and backbone of the fleet — there is no excuse for defeat
Geoff looked at Jason and realized as well that he had made a crucial mistake in not assuming that Jason might very well be listening in.
"And what do you think?" he finally said quietly.
"I lost two crews in that attack, two pilots and a gunner. I'm wondering how their families would feel if they knew their kids got killed after a war was officially over."
Tolwyn nodded and said nothing.
"I don't give a good damn about the furballs," Jason continued, "but five hundred or more of them died when that carrier got cooked. I don't feel too good about that either, sir."
"Neither do I."
"Then why did you do it, sir?"
"I'd rather not say, Jason, but let me ask you a question."
"Sure."
"If this was just another day in the war, how would you feel about taking out that carrier."
"I hate losing people, but trading a Rapier, a Sabre and two of your Broadswords for a light carrier is a damn fine piece of work in my book. I wish it had always been that easy."
Tolwyn nodded.
"That's how I still feel about it, Jason."
"But the war's over. We were hearing the rumors even before this attack started out. Something about a peace party coming into power in the Empire, Prince Thrakhath falling into disgrace, and Foreign Minister Jamison pushing for an armistice. Damn it, sir, they're saying it's finally over and we can go home."
"And do you really believe it?"
Jason hesitated.
"Well, do you?"
"I want to believe it, sir."
"Damn it, man, that's exactly it. You want to believe it. Everyone wants to believe it. But there's a hell of a long stretch between wishing for something and actually seeing it come true. Anyone who believes something simply because it sounds good and he wishes it to be true is a damned fool and that's why I did what I did."
"Sir?"
"This war is not over by a long shot," Tolwyn growled, "and I'll kiss the hairy backside of the first Kilrathi I meet if they can ever prove it differently to me.
"It's too pat, it's too damn straight forward and simple. I remember once hearing a great line about another war, 'this is such madness only an idealist could have started it.' Well, this peace offer is the same thing, only an idealist would be stupid enough to believe it. By God, son, we were finally getting an edge. We stumbled on the tactics of it all thanks to you, realizing just how under-protected and vulnerable their construction sites were. They haven't gotten a single new carrier on line in the last year. They still outnumber us, but they're hurting, hurting even worse with the loss of their transports. We just might be turning the edge in this war, and now the damn fool politicians go for this armistice offer."
"So you disobey orders on your own and decide to keep the war going a little longer."
"The target was there and I took it, a carrier that if we allowed it to get away might cost us fifty to a hundred pilots the next time around," Tolwyn said quietly. "And I think that even you, Jason, who once risked your career to try and save a ship load of Kilrathi civilians, even you down deep agree with me."
Jason drained the rest of the Scotch from his glass and closed his eyes for a moment.
"Yes, sir, I do."
Tolwyn could see the struggle such an answer had created. From most other officers he would have dismissed it as brown nosing a superior but he knew that from Jason it came from the heart.
"Why?"
"Like you said," Jason replied. "It just doesn't smell right. I know that even after Vukar Tag, and the Third Enigma Campaign they still have the edge on us. For the Kilrathi, war is part of the core of their soul. This intel stuff about a shift in the power structure of the palace. If it's true, the new power behind the throne would have his throat ripped out if he tried for a serious peace after all the sacrifices they've endured. Now I don't know much about Kilrathi psychology other than what I got in the naval college while waiting for Tarawa to finish out her refitting, but I know enough that the seeking of peace other than after a total triumph is anathema to them.
"Going for peace is impossible to their mindset. If they were losing there would be only one possible action, a suicidal fight to the end; if they were winning, a fight to ultimate triumph. There is no inbetween. Their society functions primarily through submission to strength, with the one in power gaining complete loyalty by refraining from killing the one who has submitted. But since we are not of the blood, we are therefore inferior, and as such it is impossible to submit to us. There might be exceptions, such as that warrior who serves Hunter, but that was through direct orders from his superior."
"So if the emperor or whomever is behind the emperor orders it, then why not peace?"
"Because the power at the top derives its strength through conflict. They know that if their aggressive instincts are not diverted outwards it will turn inwards and the families will eventually destroy each other. And besides, it's one thing for a lone warrior to submit, but for the highest of noble blood to do so, to submit to someone not of equal blood, is impossible."
"Precisely," Geoff said quietly, inwardly pleased as if a favorite pupil or son had mastered an intricate question.
He felt a flash of warmth for Jason, remembering the relief he felt when he had jumped into the heart of the Empire to pull Tarawa out and discovering that the ship was still alive. He felt the warmth as well because it was Jason who had taken his nephew out to war as a spoiled brat and brought him back as a man.
"This whole thing is a set-up, I'm convinced of it; and I tell you this, Jason, if our government falls for it, all our butts will be in the wringer."
"I best get back to my ship," Jason said quietly and he stood up, putting his glass down on the side table.
"Jason?"
"Sir?"
"What do you plan to do about my violation of orders?"
"If I'm asked about it, sir, I plan to tell the truth." He hesitated. "I have to tell the truth, that you launched an attack after knowing that the initial cease fire had been agreed to. To do anything else would be dishonorable."
Tolwyn smiled.
"You're a good officer, son. I've always been proud of you; I know I always will be."
He extended his hand and Jason took it.
"Let's hope I'm wrong about this armistice, but I know I'm not."
CHAPTER TWO
Jason Bondarevsky winced from the glare of the lights. Damn, how he hated the press. He had endured "the treatment" before when he had brought Tarawa back to Earth for refitting after the raid to Kilrah. The press swarmed over the ship, poking cameras in his face, asking the same asinine questions over and over again, probing far too deeply into parts of the raid he simply wanted to forget. When one had finally hit him with a question about the death of Svetlana, asking how he felt while watching his girlfriend die, he had to be restrained from punching the reporter's lights out, a fleet PR officer, all smoothness and charm, separating the two.
The press madness flared up again when Jason was presented with the Medal of Honor and yet again when the absolutely ridiculous holo movie about his raid, First to Kilrah, came out. The film was a humiliating embarrassment, especially since the plot had little to do with the actual raid, spending most of its time focused on his doomed affair with Svetlana, with half a dozen steamy scenes padded in. It still made him boil that the holo spent precious little time on the hundreds of others who had fought, sacrificed, and died with him. He wanted to take the damn money the producer had given him and jam it down the lying scum's throat after seeing the film, which he had been promised would be shot as a straight forward documentary honoring those who had served. The only satisfaction he got out of the whole fiasco was in donating every dollar he earned from the film to a scholarship fund set up for children of the Marines and naval personnel lost in the raid.
And now he was stuck under the lights again, all because he had taken a wrong turn while looking for a bathroom. The same lousy reporter who was far too curious about Svetlana had seen him first and rushed over, the others moving like a herd of cattle when the word spread that "the guy they made the movie about," was present as a staff officer for the armistice conference.
"So whatya think of the war ending? It's Bondevsky, isn't it?" one of them shouted, aiming his holo recorder at Jason's face.
"That's Bondarevsky," Jason said quietly, remembering how his old captain O'Brian had always mispronounced the name.
"Yeah, sorry. So tell us what you think?"
"First of all, negotiations for an armistice do not mean that the war has ended. There's a big difference between an armistice and formal peace, he tried to explain patiently. "Other than that, no comment," and he tried to shoulder his way through the crush.
"Still hate the Kilrathi, is that it? Seems like you fleet officers don't want peace," a sweating beefy faced reporter shouted.
Jason looked back at the fat-faced reporter.
"I'm a captain in the fleet. I'm a professional, I try to do my job and leave the hating to others."
"Even though they killed your lover, that Marine, Susan wasn't it?"
He hesitated, wanting to turn and belt the reporter in the face, or better yet strap him into a tail gunner's seat and take him out for a mission to see what it was really like. Though he hated to do so, he turned away and continued down the corridor, shouldering his way through the crush.
"Military's gonna be out of work, that's what's got them pissed off," he heard a reporter sneering.
He turned, knowing he shouldn't, but he simply couldn't take it any longer. He put a finger into the man's face.
"What have you been doing the last couple of years?"
The man looked at him defiantly.
"Working for the holos."
"Where?"
"On Earth. United Broadcasting."
"While you've been sitting on your fat butt and grinning at the camera I've watched hundreds of thousands die. I've seen entire continents on fire from a thousand warhead bombardment, I've watched carriers bursting silently in space, a thousand men and women spilling out, their blood boiling in the vacuum. I've heard the screams of my comrades as their fighters burned, and they were trapped, unable to eject. I've lost more friends than you'll ever have, you belly crawling excuse for a worm. So don't you ever dare say to me, or anyone else, that we want a war. We know what the hell the price is while all you know is how to stuff your face and bloat your pride."
He turned and stalked off, hearing more than one reporter chuckle and give a word of support, but most of them looked at him with a superior disdain, as if he was an arrogant ignorant child who had just thrown a tantrum.
A Fleet public relations officer slipped in beside Jason, grabbed him by the arm and hustled him along.
"That wasn't very smart, sir," she whispered in his ear, while at the same time smiling to the press, and quickly moved him back down the corridor.
"Go to hell. I'm here as an aide to Admiral Tolwyn, but I'm not going to be insulted."
"Then stick to your job as an aide, things are bad enough as is with the damned press without you making it worse," she hissed in his ear.
Jason forced back an angry retort while the other officer seemed to instantly shift gears, smiling, holding up her hand to the press, repeating that they'd have a story soon enough and finally hustled Jason through a door.
"Next time you need to find a bathroom, sir," the officer said quietly, "for heavens sake, don't wander into the press area. Those bastards are like sharks looking for blood."
"Well, where the hell is the bathroom?"
The officer shook her head.
"No time. The meetings about to start up again and it wouldn't look good for you, a mere captain, to come wandering in late."
Jason sighed and the officer pointed him to an airlock door.
He suddenly felt self conscious.
"Do I look all right?"
She smiled, reaching up to adjust the Medal of Honor which hung from a blue sash around his throat.
"Fine, sir, and paused for an instant. "And by the way I'm behind you one hundred per cent with what you said back there, sir."
He forced a smile and went through the airlock and back into the conference room.
For a frontier orbital base the room was richly appointed, with dark wood paneled walls, soft indirect lighting, and even a real oak table taking up most of the center of the room. The chairs around the conference table were all high backed, heavily cushioned and covered in the dark navy blue of the fleet. In front of each desk was a small ensign denoting the rank of the military officers present, and most of them were three and four stars.
The short recess was nearly over and Jason moved to his position sitting directly behind Admiral Tolwyn. He looked over at Hunter, who Tolwyn had picked as his second aide for this meeting, and Ian winked.
"Make it?"
"No and I'm ready to burst," Jason groaned and Hunter smiled.
Why Tolwyn had picked the two of them to serve as his aides at this meeting was beyond Jason. He knew the admiral's regular staff officers were seething over being cut out of this armistice meeting and Jason could only surmise that in part it was an act of friendship, to let him in at an historic moment, but also as a sort of window dressing for Tolwyn to have two of his most decorated and famous officers sitting directly behind him.
He looked around the circular table and saw that nearly everyone was back from the short recess, aides sitting erect behind their superiors who were talking softly to each other, some serious, others chuckling over a shared witticism. Most of the laughter came from the civilian side of the room. A door at the far side of the room opened and everyone rose, the military personnel coming to stiff attention as the President of the Confederation, Harold Rodham, stepped into the room. Jason had first met him at the Medal of Honor presentation and was surprised with how short he really was, something the holo films never seemed to pick up on.
"Be seated, please," Rodham said quietly.
Jason could feel the electric tension rippling through the room.
"I'm prepared to hear any last minute presentations, but I want it done in a calm and logical fashion."
Jason knew that it was futile. In any other setting, without a sea of admiral, commandant and generals' stars around the table he might even have been tempted to speak up but Admiral Tolwyn relieved him of that by coming to his feet.
"Admiral Tolwyn," Rodham said nodding his head.
Tolwyn looked around the room and then focused his attention on the civilians sitting around Rodham.
"You are all well aware that I am the most junior officer sitting at this table; perhaps for that reason it might be best for me, as a front line officer, to review one more time our objections to this armistice which you seem so intent on formalizing."
Jason could see Rodham bristle slightly.
"What you are agreeing to is a freezing in place of all forces until such time as a peace commission can be established, agreeable to both sides, who will then negotiate a permanent cease fire between the Terran Confederation and the Kilrathi Empire. At the same time you are agreeing to a freezing of all construction of military ships, the refitting of vessels currently in dry dock, and the enlistment of new personnel."
Rodham gave a curt nod of reply.
"I find it difficult at best to accept this."
"You're in the military and don't you forget that you are under civilian control, so you d better accept it," Rhonda Jamison, the foreign minister who had been the key negotiator for the armistice announced coldly. Rodham extended his hand towards Jamison as if to calm her.
"Go on, Admiral."
"I am not a politician, I am a warrior, following in the thousand year tradition of my family who served in the ancient navy, army, and air force of Britain and the space forces of the Confederation . My family has seen the best of those moments, proud of the memory of six Victoria Crosses in our past. Tolwyns served at Waterloo, on the Somme, in the Battle of Britain, at Minsk and the siege of London and shed their blood heavily in this latest war. We have seen the best and we have endured the worst, and sir, I fear that this decision might very well produce the most disastrous defeat in the history of the human race, and perhaps even spell its eventual annihilation."
Jamison sniffed and then shook her head angrily.
"Admiral, we are not discussing genealogy or ancient history, a passion I find many military men are fond of indulging in. We are discussing real politics, the here and now."
"And so am I," Tolwyn replied. "Eighteen months ago I feared that at best the war would simply drag on forever and more likely would eventually lead to our defeat. And then, with new tactical innovations and the latest improvements in technology we appear to have not only reached a balance but in fact, for the first time in thirty years of fighting, appear to have at least gained an edge. We found two weak spots: their logistical support, and their construction. We found the ways to hit at them, to slip past their main battle fleet and we are hurting them. Our intelligence net has detected that some ships are forced to go into action with less than seventy percent of their standard armaments. We've noticed dozens of small signs. The crucial, the absolutely crucial element in this is to keep the pressure on them, not to let it up."
Jason could see the clear division in the room, the military personnel, especially the front line fleet commanders, nodding in agreement, the civilian personnel sitting quietly.
"Don't let the pressure off now, I'm begging you, reminding you that we've lost millions upon millions of our finest to get to this point. Now is when we should be tightening the screws, hitting them all out with everything we have. Until you stopped us ten days ago. Operation Red Three held the promise of inflicting serious losses on the Empire — it might have permanently put them off balance.
"Might have," Jamison replied. "That is always part of your military jargon, might have. There was no guarantee. In earlier testimony today you heard Admiral Banbridge state that Kilrathi front line carriers still outnumbered ours by nearly two to one. Simulation studies of Red Three demonstrated that the probability for full success was less than twenty percent, and there was a twenty-five percent chance of a reversal and a loss of most of our escort carriers with little if anything gained. You might take such things lightly, Admiral, after all you would be secure in your heavy carrier, but I lost a son on one of those suicide missions you and your people so blithely send out."
Tolwyn glared at Jamison.
Her loss was well known and she made a point of attacking the fleet whenever possible as a result. He could feel some sympathy for her, but on the other side of the coin was the fact that there was hardly anyone in the room who had not lost loved ones in this war and to accuse him of not feeling that pain was enraging.
He focused his thoughts and pushed on.
"With support it would have worked. But you obviously don't want to give that support now."
"The question is moot," Admiral Banbridge interjected, looking over at Tolwyn, extending his hand in a calming gesture. "Red Three was scrubbed ten days ago and is impossible now to restart. Kilrathi intelligence definitely has the plans by now."
"You just don't get the whole picture, do you, Admiral?" Jamison snapped. "Do you know just how much it costs to build and launch one fleet carrier?
"Seventy three billion and some change," Jamison continued, not giving Tolwyn a chance to interject. "A full compliment of fighters another ten billion. In the last three years we've lost over one and a half trillion dollars worth of carriers and fighters."
"I rather think of it as some fine young men and women that we lost, such as your son," Tolwyn bristled.
Jamison stared at Tolwyn with hate filled eyes.
"You can think of it that way," Jamison replied, "but I and the rest of the government also have to look at the war from a financial light. It cost nearly eight trillion a year to run the war and we have a deficit of over forty trillion. It'll take generations just to pay that off. Shortages are wide spread, in a fair part of the Confederation rationing of everything from fuel to nylon to eggs is in place. You say we shouldn't give the Kilrathi a breather? I think rather it is we who are lucky to have a breather. The civilian population is war weary, Tolwyn and after thirty-two years of fighting I think we have had enough and for that matter the Kilrathi have had enough as well. I'm sick to death of the old military logic of having to waste more blood to somehow uphold the honor of those who are already dead. It's time to let the dead rest, Admiral. Let's finish it now and get on with the peace."
"I find it difficult to accept that a full accounting of the Kilrathi armed forces has actually been reached," Tolwyn replied, falling back on the second position of his argument. "I find it difficult to accept that we are actually allowing Kilrathi personnel into Confederation space as observers and in general I find it difficult to accept that our leaders would be so foolish as to actually believe this entire affair."
The civilians in the room bristled, but Rodham held up his hand and nodded for Tolwyn to continue.
"In the two years prior to your agreement to this armistice we dealt a series of bitter reversals to the Kilrathi. It must have had an impact on their morale. As you know, the young captain behind me," and he paused to nod back towards Jason, "took part in the destruction of six carriers right on the doorstep of the Imperial home planet.
"Now is not the time to call an armistice; now, if anything, is the time to jack the pressure up to the breaking point. I've heard some of you say that we don't really understand the Kilrathi, that down deep they are just like us. I don't think so. Maybe there'll come a day when we can live peacefully with them, but unfortunately it is not now. We must deal with them through strength. All our psy-ops studies have shown that if the Kilrathi have contempt for anything it is for one who displays hesitation or weakness. Even their word for such a person, tuka, is spoken with a sneering contempt, a word so insulting that a Kilrathi challenged with such a smear will fight to the death. And I tell you now that we are tuka in their eyes if we fall for this subterfuge."
There was an angry ripple in the room and even Tolwyn's superiors stirred uncomfortably.
"Only now are we really starting to learn of their political and social system. Take that information and use it, consider the suggestion formulated by the psy-ops division, plan K-7, which called for specific strikes against the holdings of only one or two families, making them share an unequal burden and perhaps cause a permanent rift triggering a civil war. Now is not the time to stop, it's the time to finish this war on our terms."
Jason could sense the frustration and heartbreak in Tolwyn's voice and looking around the room he saw the division in feelings, some present nodding their heads in agreement, while others sat in silence, their faces like masks.
We are making the agreement on our terms," Jamison retorted sharply, her voice hard with anger.
"Our observation teams have been granted full access to Kilrathi ship yards as a gesture of good faith to see that no further military construction takes place. They're pulling back their frontier bases and limiting patrols to light corvette-size ships within the demilitarized zone. I've spent countless hours hashing out the details of this with Baron Jukaga and I know that he is just as fervent in his desire to see this war end as we are."
"He is a liar."
A bit startled, all in the room turned to the Firekka representative who throughout the two long days of meetings had remained silent.
Rikik, the flock leader of her world, stood up and cocked her head, looking about the room. The Firekka were something of a strange sight, looking like eight foot parrots one only encountered in nightmares or hallucinations after a few too many drinks. Jason looked over at Hunter, who had helped to save Rikik's life after she was taken prisoner by the Kilrathi and his friend grinned.
"Baron Jukaga is a liar," Rikik announced, looking about the room. "If you humans are so foolish as to believe his words then you are doomed. Remember my planet, the only world we lived upon, was attacked by them for their Sivar ritual. Millions of my flock died, our cities were smashed. It will be a generation or more before we recover. I cannot now believe that you will agree to this foolishness."
"My good friend," Rodham said quietly, smiling as if Rikik were an old companion who might have spoken out of turn. "Remember we too have suffered in this war. It has lasted for over thirty years. More than a hundred colonial worlds, and half a dozen primary planets have been devastated. Billions have died, billions," he paused for a moment, his features pained and Jason knew it was not an act, for Rodham's youngest daughter had been killed during the First Enigma campaign.
He cleared his throat and continued.
"Thirty years of our blood, our wealth, and all our ingenuity has been poured into this conflict. Think of what we could have done with all that we have spent and lost if it had only been applied to our continued peaceful expansion into the universe.
"Admiral Tolwyn claims that the tide was starting to turn. I don't think so. We have become like two wrestlers of equal strength, locked in a hold neither can use to bring his opponent down, and yet unable to break the hold of his opponent. How much longer must this go on? Another thirty years, another generation dead and still no end in sight, until finally, one day we'll have bombed and burned and stabbed each other back into the stone age?"
"Baron Jukaga has offered a way out, to simply stop the killing. It is just that simple. We simply agree to stop. I know you in the military don't like this; you're thinking of all your comrades who have died and now you wonder for what? I'll tell you that they did die for something. It wasn't victory, since that is impossible, but they did prevent defeat. To call for the war to continue now with the argument that the sacrifice had to mean something is simply to ask for the pouring of yet more blood on the graves of those who do not want it."
He hesitated for a moment.
"I do not want my grandchildren to die the way my daughter has. I think she would want them to live, to grow up without fear and live in peace."
"They'll die, only it'll be worse. At least your daughter died fighting, your grandchildren will die having their throats cut for the Sivar, the way my people died," Rikik cried, her voice shrill.
"I think that's out of order and insensitive," an aide sitting behind Rodham snapped angrily.
"One can't worry about being sensitive when the issue is the survival of a nation or of an entire race," Rikik said in reply. "I'm sick to death of the word sensitivity when it is a mask for those who wish to advance their own cause at the expense of others. If the Confederation is foolish enough to take this deal, then I will take the Firekka out of the Confederation.
"And who will protect you then?" Jamison replied sarcastically.
"You did a damn poor job of protecting us when the Kilrathi hit us last time, your fleet withdrawing 'out of strategic necessity,' I think you called it. It couldn't be any worse on our own, and I'll tell you this, there'll be more than one frontier colonial world that will go with us. You don't even see members of the Landreich worlds or the Grovsner colonies here, since they want no part of this peace."
"That's treason," Jamison sputtered, "and if the colonial worlds violate the armistice they will be disciplined.
"No, its survival and mark my words, there'll come a day when you will choke on the papers you plan to sign here this day. And as for disciplining the colonial worlds, just try it," Rikik said with a cold laugh.
She looked around the room, more than one of the military personnel looking at her and nodding. Without another word she drew back from the table and stalked from the room, followed by her one aide.
"Old K'Kai sure has taught her niece well," Hunter whispered, waving a slight greeting to his Firekka comrade as she followed her niece out of the room.
There was a moment of uneasy silence.
"I think that continued debate on this subject will only serve to cause more animosity and outbreaks," Rodham finally said. "I thank all of you for your input over the last two days regarding this issue.
"Here it comes, Ian whispered.
"I plan to sign the articles of the armistice within the hour and with it establish a bilateral peace commission to work towards a permanent treaty between the Terran Confederation and the Kilrathi Empire. You are invited to join me if you wish. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen."
Rodham stood up and walked out of the room, followed by the civilians and staff.
"Damn them to hell!"
Jason looked over at Admiral Banbridge who flung his memo computer down on the table and stormed out of the room through the opposite door.
Tolwyn turned and looked back at Ian.
"Well, your Firekka friends sure played a damn fine scene," he said with a grin.
"Think they'd really do it?" Jason asked, turning to Ian.
Ian smiled.
"Those birds might not look like much when you first meet them, but I'll tell you this, they make the finest liquor in this corner of the universe and straight or drunk when they make a promise they keep it."
"What about that threat of the colonies not observing the armistice?" Jason asked.
"Let's not talk of that now, Tolwyn said quietly. "Shall we go watch the show?"
Though he hated to admit it, Jason found that he actually did want to see what was already being hailed as the most historic moment in a hundred years, as if all the victories and even the defeats of the war had already become secondary.
Tolwyn stood up and started for the door that Rodham had gone through. Admiral Noragami, head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff came around from the other side of the table and approached Tolwyn.
"Nice try, Geoff, but it was doomed from the start."
Tolwyn nodded.
"I heard that a little something regarding you has just come to light as well," Nuragami said quietly.
Tolwyn merely smiled and Nuragami extended his hand.
"Take care of yourself, Geoff," Nuragami said and turning he went out the opposite door taken by Banbridge. Knowing how Tolwyn felt about the whole affair, Jason was more than a little surprised that his admiral was not boycotting the signing as well.
They passed down a long corridor lined with Marine security guards and stepped into an open cavernous hall which served as the hangar bay for this deep space base, the vacuum of space on the other side kept out by the magnetic lock field
How many times have I looked out a bay like that, he thought, sitting inside my fighter, strapped in and waiting for the launch signal? The mere thought of it set his heart racing again. Even though he was glad the fighting had stopped, he knew he'd miss it, the adrenaline rush of launching, the pure joy of flying the most powerful fighter craft ever built. If this peace really did hold, all of that was finished. It was a strange feeling of relief and regret all at once.
"Gonna miss it," Hunter said softly, standing by Jason's side.
Hunter nodded that they should follow Tolwyn, who was slowly weaving his way through the crowd to stand with the small knot of military personnel who had decided to witness the event
A polished durasteel table two meters wide was the only furniture in the middle of the hangar. On the table, in ornate gold embossed folders rested the armistice agreement with copies in Standard English and Kilrah. To one side more than a hundred representatives of the Confederation were present, easily outnumbered by the hundreds of members of the press. The other side of the table and hangar was empty.
A door on the far side of the hangar opened and a lone Kilrathi emerged without fanfare, dressed in a simple uniform of scarlet and gold. The press turned their cameras on him, several breaking with protocol and shouting questions.
Baron Jukaga turned, looked at them, and smiled, raising his paw in a friendly wave. The press went wild, moving in closer.
"I have a little formality to attend to first," he announced, his standard English nearly perfect and free of the tendency of putting a hissing s on soft ending words and hard k's on most others, "then we'll have a chance to talk later," and his disarming informality caused several of the press to laugh.
Behind him came yet more Kilrathi, these in the more formal garb of high officers and they filed silently past the cameras and lined up behind Jukaga. Jason noticed that there was only one Kilrathi photographer recording the scene as compared to the swarm of reporters from the Confederation side.
"We have reached agreement then?" Jukaga asked standing by the other side of the table opposite Rodham.
The president smiled, nodded, and pointed at the formal documents set in the middle of the table.
Without hesitating Jukaga took up a pen, signed the documents, and then slid them back to Rodham, who signed it as well. The two shook and Jukaga turned and looked back at the press.
"Friends, this armistice is but a start. Let us truly come to realize that the universe is big enough for both of us and that a permanent peace can be arrived at. These proceedings are now ended."
A cheer erupted and Tolwyn, shaking his head, looked back at Jason.
"He certainly knows his Earth history with that closing line. Let's hope it isn't prophetic as to who the ultimate winner is."
Jason wanted to ask him to explain the reference but decided to let it pass.
The crowd started to break apart into smaller groups many heading for the refreshments arrayed along a side wall. Jason followed in Tolwyn's wake and noticed a Kilrathi officer coming up to them.
"You are Tolwyn? ' the Kilrathi asked.
"Yes."
"I am Tukarg. I was in command of the carrier Gi'karga in what you call the Third Enigma Campaign. I wished to tell you your counterstrike was masterful."
Taken off guard Tolwyn said nothing.
"I also understand you commanded the opening of the recent action at Munro."
Tolwyn still remained silent. From behind Tukarg another Kilrathi appeared and Jason was surprised to see that it was the Baron.
He was not as tall as most Kilrathi and could even be called slight by their standards, though that was still powerful when compared to a human. His coat was a smooth golden red, and from what little Jason knew of Kilrathi blood lines, the coloring was a mark of the most noble breeding. His eyes were dark, almost coal black, but as he approached a flash of reflected light made them appear to glow for an instant with the color of fire.
"A nice quote of MacArthur," Tolwyn said as Jukaga approached. "Did it have some hidden meaning?"
Jukaga laughed softly.
"Maybe a bad choice on my part; I didn't want to imply that it was you surrendering to us."
"I understand you've read a lot of our literature.
Jukaga smiled.
"A hobby I've found fascinating. Your Chaucer's tales are much the same as our own Backrka's 'Tomes of Sivar,' about a group of pilgrims traveling to a holy shrine.
Tolwyn smiled.
"A nice choice of English works to study," Tolwyn said.
"Ah yes, you were born near Canterbury."
"However, the pilgrimage to the tomb of Thomas Becket had slightly different rituals than the blood feast of Sivar," Tolwyn replied.
"Different people, different customs, as they say, but nevertheless I do enjoy your literature."
"You've spent time then studying me?" Tolwyn asked.
"You were an adversary. I heard you led the first wave at Vukar Tag, of course I would want to know more of you."
"So you read Chaucer, is that it?"
Jukaga laughed
"Amongst others."
"And who are some of the others?" Tolwyn asked quietly.
Jukaga smiled.
"Political, intellectual writers."
"Such as Machiavelli, Sun Tzu," Tolwyn ventured, "or perhaps some pages from the writings of Mao or General Giap and his writings on how to weaken an opponent through means other than war; or perhaps a little Clausewitz or the Alpha Centurian theorist Vitivius the Younger."
"Why those in particular? Is this a recommended reading list?"
"No," Tolwyn said quietly, "just speculation."
"Ah, another mistrustful military man," Jukaga replied his voice pitched a little louder so that the press who had gathered at the edge of the group could hear better.
"Your assumption, not mine," Tolwyn replied softly.
"Yet another prophet of doom that peace will never work," and he paused for a second, noticing that several reporters and cameramen were jockeying into position to catch the encounter.
"Admiral, aren't we late for our dinner appointment?" Jason said, coming up behind Tolwyn, lying like mad, but unable to think of a better excuse to extract his commander.
"Don't forget, Geoffrey . . ." and Jukaga paused, "May I call you that? '
"My friends do," Tolwyn replied coldly.
"All right, then Admiral. Let me remind you that we Kilrathi have suffered just as much in this unfortunate war. We have lost millions as well. I've heard you people talk about atrocities, but we have suffered them too."
He looked over at Jason and smiled again.
"Though there were some of your warriors who did fight with honor and tried to protect our innocent women and children, even if they were furballs as you so ineloquently put it."
Jason felt uncomfortable by his attention but looked back at him, saying nothing.
Jukaga hesitated for a moment as if not wishing to say something.
"Speaking of atrocities," Tukarg, standing behind Jukaga, interjected.
"Let it drop, it's over," Jukaga replied
Tukarg shook his head
"I had clan blood on that ship," Tukarg said coldly and he turned to look at the press.
We have intelligence information that your Admiral Tolwyn launched an attack against one of our ships after he had already received the report that a preliminary armistice agreement had been reached and that all offensive action was to cease. Such an act is a war crime."
"An honest mistake," Jukaga said as if almost apologizing for Tukarg. "And besides," he said with a forced laugh, "now you've gone and revealed that we had cracked their latest fleet code.
"I'm sorry this has come up," Jukaga continued, "but perhaps there should be an investigation to clear your name."
"There's no need for an investigation," Tolwyn said quietly
"Oh, then of course you are innocent."
"No, quite the contrary," Tolwyn replied, "I did it because it was my duty. Now if you'll excuse me."
He nodded curtly and turned away.
The press swarmed after him shouting questions, shouldering Jason and Ian out of the way.
"Nicely done," Jason said coldly, looking straight at Jukaga.
For a brief instant he felt as if he could almost sense the contempt and then the smile returned.
"I didn't want it to happen. I know how a warriors blood can get up. It was unfortunate but such incidents happen in war. It was best to leave it forgotten now that it is over."
"But of course," Jason said coldly.
"You were the one who raided our home world, weren't you?"
"First to Kilrah," Jason said quietly, repeating what was now the slogan of his ship.
Again there seemed to be that flash.
"Masterful; I studied it intently afterwards."
"I just bet you did," Ian replied.
"Perhaps we'll talk again someday," Jukaga said stiffly and turning he walked off, the smile returning as he waved to the cameras.
"Come on," Jason said angrily, looking over at Hunter, "let's get out of here, I need to find a bathroom."
Jukaga turned back and watched Tolwyn disappear from view, surrounded by a horde of press shouting questions. Tolwyn's actions had caught him by surprise. It was a convenient way of removing one of the finest fleet admirals of the Confederation and to discredit the fleet as well. And yet it struck him as strange that Tolwyn would allow his passion to get the better of him. It did not fit the pattern at all of a man he had studied so intently. He found that he almost felt sorry for him. How easily he had been destroyed, not in battle, but by a ruse. The ever eager reporters of the Confederation, who would now destroy a man that the best fleet officers of the Empire found to be unbeatable.
Yes, he could feel sorry for him even if he was the enemy, and that realization Jukaga found to be almost troubling.
The press madness flared up again when Jason was presented with the Medal of Honor and yet again when the absolutely ridiculous holo movie about his raid, First to Kilrah, came out. The film was a humiliating embarrassment, especially since the plot had little to do with the actual raid, spending most of its time focused on his doomed affair with Svetlana, with half a dozen steamy scenes padded in. It still made him boil that the holo spent precious little time on the hundreds of others who had fought, sacrificed, and died with him. He wanted to take the damn money the producer had given him and jam it down the lying scum's throat after seeing the film, which he had been promised would be shot as a straight forward documentary honoring those who had served. The only satisfaction he got out of the whole fiasco was in donating every dollar he earned from the film to a scholarship fund set up for children of the Marines and naval personnel lost in the raid.
And now he was stuck under the lights again, all because he had taken a wrong turn while looking for a bathroom. The same lousy reporter who was far too curious about Svetlana had seen him first and rushed over, the others moving like a herd of cattle when the word spread that "the guy they made the movie about," was present as a staff officer for the armistice conference.
"So whatya think of the war ending? It's Bondevsky, isn't it?" one of them shouted, aiming his holo recorder at Jason's face.
"That's Bondarevsky," Jason said quietly, remembering how his old captain O'Brian had always mispronounced the name.
"Yeah, sorry. So tell us what you think?"
"First of all, negotiations for an armistice do not mean that the war has ended. There's a big difference between an armistice and formal peace, he tried to explain patiently. "Other than that, no comment," and he tried to shoulder his way through the crush.
"Still hate the Kilrathi, is that it? Seems like you fleet officers don't want peace," a sweating beefy faced reporter shouted.
Jason looked back at the fat-faced reporter.
"I'm a captain in the fleet. I'm a professional, I try to do my job and leave the hating to others."
"Even though they killed your lover, that Marine, Susan wasn't it?"
He hesitated, wanting to turn and belt the reporter in the face, or better yet strap him into a tail gunner's seat and take him out for a mission to see what it was really like. Though he hated to do so, he turned away and continued down the corridor, shouldering his way through the crush.
"Military's gonna be out of work, that's what's got them pissed off," he heard a reporter sneering.
He turned, knowing he shouldn't, but he simply couldn't take it any longer. He put a finger into the man's face.
"What have you been doing the last couple of years?"
The man looked at him defiantly.
"Working for the holos."
"Where?"
"On Earth. United Broadcasting."
"While you've been sitting on your fat butt and grinning at the camera I've watched hundreds of thousands die. I've seen entire continents on fire from a thousand warhead bombardment, I've watched carriers bursting silently in space, a thousand men and women spilling out, their blood boiling in the vacuum. I've heard the screams of my comrades as their fighters burned, and they were trapped, unable to eject. I've lost more friends than you'll ever have, you belly crawling excuse for a worm. So don't you ever dare say to me, or anyone else, that we want a war. We know what the hell the price is while all you know is how to stuff your face and bloat your pride."
He turned and stalked off, hearing more than one reporter chuckle and give a word of support, but most of them looked at him with a superior disdain, as if he was an arrogant ignorant child who had just thrown a tantrum.
A Fleet public relations officer slipped in beside Jason, grabbed him by the arm and hustled him along.
"That wasn't very smart, sir," she whispered in his ear, while at the same time smiling to the press, and quickly moved him back down the corridor.
"Go to hell. I'm here as an aide to Admiral Tolwyn, but I'm not going to be insulted."
"Then stick to your job as an aide, things are bad enough as is with the damned press without you making it worse," she hissed in his ear.
Jason forced back an angry retort while the other officer seemed to instantly shift gears, smiling, holding up her hand to the press, repeating that they'd have a story soon enough and finally hustled Jason through a door.
"Next time you need to find a bathroom, sir," the officer said quietly, "for heavens sake, don't wander into the press area. Those bastards are like sharks looking for blood."
"Well, where the hell is the bathroom?"
The officer shook her head.
"No time. The meetings about to start up again and it wouldn't look good for you, a mere captain, to come wandering in late."
Jason sighed and the officer pointed him to an airlock door.
He suddenly felt self conscious.
"Do I look all right?"
She smiled, reaching up to adjust the Medal of Honor which hung from a blue sash around his throat.
"Fine, sir, and paused for an instant. "And by the way I'm behind you one hundred per cent with what you said back there, sir."
He forced a smile and went through the airlock and back into the conference room.
For a frontier orbital base the room was richly appointed, with dark wood paneled walls, soft indirect lighting, and even a real oak table taking up most of the center of the room. The chairs around the conference table were all high backed, heavily cushioned and covered in the dark navy blue of the fleet. In front of each desk was a small ensign denoting the rank of the military officers present, and most of them were three and four stars.
The short recess was nearly over and Jason moved to his position sitting directly behind Admiral Tolwyn. He looked over at Hunter, who Tolwyn had picked as his second aide for this meeting, and Ian winked.
"Make it?"
"No and I'm ready to burst," Jason groaned and Hunter smiled.
Why Tolwyn had picked the two of them to serve as his aides at this meeting was beyond Jason. He knew the admiral's regular staff officers were seething over being cut out of this armistice meeting and Jason could only surmise that in part it was an act of friendship, to let him in at an historic moment, but also as a sort of window dressing for Tolwyn to have two of his most decorated and famous officers sitting directly behind him.
He looked around the circular table and saw that nearly everyone was back from the short recess, aides sitting erect behind their superiors who were talking softly to each other, some serious, others chuckling over a shared witticism. Most of the laughter came from the civilian side of the room. A door at the far side of the room opened and everyone rose, the military personnel coming to stiff attention as the President of the Confederation, Harold Rodham, stepped into the room. Jason had first met him at the Medal of Honor presentation and was surprised with how short he really was, something the holo films never seemed to pick up on.
"Be seated, please," Rodham said quietly.
Jason could feel the electric tension rippling through the room.
"I'm prepared to hear any last minute presentations, but I want it done in a calm and logical fashion."
Jason knew that it was futile. In any other setting, without a sea of admiral, commandant and generals' stars around the table he might even have been tempted to speak up but Admiral Tolwyn relieved him of that by coming to his feet.
"Admiral Tolwyn," Rodham said nodding his head.
Tolwyn looked around the room and then focused his attention on the civilians sitting around Rodham.
"You are all well aware that I am the most junior officer sitting at this table; perhaps for that reason it might be best for me, as a front line officer, to review one more time our objections to this armistice which you seem so intent on formalizing."
Jason could see Rodham bristle slightly.
"What you are agreeing to is a freezing in place of all forces until such time as a peace commission can be established, agreeable to both sides, who will then negotiate a permanent cease fire between the Terran Confederation and the Kilrathi Empire. At the same time you are agreeing to a freezing of all construction of military ships, the refitting of vessels currently in dry dock, and the enlistment of new personnel."
Rodham gave a curt nod of reply.
"I find it difficult at best to accept this."
"You're in the military and don't you forget that you are under civilian control, so you d better accept it," Rhonda Jamison, the foreign minister who had been the key negotiator for the armistice announced coldly. Rodham extended his hand towards Jamison as if to calm her.
"Go on, Admiral."
"I am not a politician, I am a warrior, following in the thousand year tradition of my family who served in the ancient navy, army, and air force of Britain and the space forces of the Confederation . My family has seen the best of those moments, proud of the memory of six Victoria Crosses in our past. Tolwyns served at Waterloo, on the Somme, in the Battle of Britain, at Minsk and the siege of London and shed their blood heavily in this latest war. We have seen the best and we have endured the worst, and sir, I fear that this decision might very well produce the most disastrous defeat in the history of the human race, and perhaps even spell its eventual annihilation."
Jamison sniffed and then shook her head angrily.
"Admiral, we are not discussing genealogy or ancient history, a passion I find many military men are fond of indulging in. We are discussing real politics, the here and now."
"And so am I," Tolwyn replied. "Eighteen months ago I feared that at best the war would simply drag on forever and more likely would eventually lead to our defeat. And then, with new tactical innovations and the latest improvements in technology we appear to have not only reached a balance but in fact, for the first time in thirty years of fighting, appear to have at least gained an edge. We found two weak spots: their logistical support, and their construction. We found the ways to hit at them, to slip past their main battle fleet and we are hurting them. Our intelligence net has detected that some ships are forced to go into action with less than seventy percent of their standard armaments. We've noticed dozens of small signs. The crucial, the absolutely crucial element in this is to keep the pressure on them, not to let it up."
Jason could see the clear division in the room, the military personnel, especially the front line fleet commanders, nodding in agreement, the civilian personnel sitting quietly.
"Don't let the pressure off now, I'm begging you, reminding you that we've lost millions upon millions of our finest to get to this point. Now is when we should be tightening the screws, hitting them all out with everything we have. Until you stopped us ten days ago. Operation Red Three held the promise of inflicting serious losses on the Empire — it might have permanently put them off balance.
"Might have," Jamison replied. "That is always part of your military jargon, might have. There was no guarantee. In earlier testimony today you heard Admiral Banbridge state that Kilrathi front line carriers still outnumbered ours by nearly two to one. Simulation studies of Red Three demonstrated that the probability for full success was less than twenty percent, and there was a twenty-five percent chance of a reversal and a loss of most of our escort carriers with little if anything gained. You might take such things lightly, Admiral, after all you would be secure in your heavy carrier, but I lost a son on one of those suicide missions you and your people so blithely send out."
Tolwyn glared at Jamison.
Her loss was well known and she made a point of attacking the fleet whenever possible as a result. He could feel some sympathy for her, but on the other side of the coin was the fact that there was hardly anyone in the room who had not lost loved ones in this war and to accuse him of not feeling that pain was enraging.
He focused his thoughts and pushed on.
"With support it would have worked. But you obviously don't want to give that support now."
"The question is moot," Admiral Banbridge interjected, looking over at Tolwyn, extending his hand in a calming gesture. "Red Three was scrubbed ten days ago and is impossible now to restart. Kilrathi intelligence definitely has the plans by now."
"You just don't get the whole picture, do you, Admiral?" Jamison snapped. "Do you know just how much it costs to build and launch one fleet carrier?
"Seventy three billion and some change," Jamison continued, not giving Tolwyn a chance to interject. "A full compliment of fighters another ten billion. In the last three years we've lost over one and a half trillion dollars worth of carriers and fighters."
"I rather think of it as some fine young men and women that we lost, such as your son," Tolwyn bristled.
Jamison stared at Tolwyn with hate filled eyes.
"You can think of it that way," Jamison replied, "but I and the rest of the government also have to look at the war from a financial light. It cost nearly eight trillion a year to run the war and we have a deficit of over forty trillion. It'll take generations just to pay that off. Shortages are wide spread, in a fair part of the Confederation rationing of everything from fuel to nylon to eggs is in place. You say we shouldn't give the Kilrathi a breather? I think rather it is we who are lucky to have a breather. The civilian population is war weary, Tolwyn and after thirty-two years of fighting I think we have had enough and for that matter the Kilrathi have had enough as well. I'm sick to death of the old military logic of having to waste more blood to somehow uphold the honor of those who are already dead. It's time to let the dead rest, Admiral. Let's finish it now and get on with the peace."
"I find it difficult to accept that a full accounting of the Kilrathi armed forces has actually been reached," Tolwyn replied, falling back on the second position of his argument. "I find it difficult to accept that we are actually allowing Kilrathi personnel into Confederation space as observers and in general I find it difficult to accept that our leaders would be so foolish as to actually believe this entire affair."
The civilians in the room bristled, but Rodham held up his hand and nodded for Tolwyn to continue.
"In the two years prior to your agreement to this armistice we dealt a series of bitter reversals to the Kilrathi. It must have had an impact on their morale. As you know, the young captain behind me," and he paused to nod back towards Jason, "took part in the destruction of six carriers right on the doorstep of the Imperial home planet.
"Now is not the time to call an armistice; now, if anything, is the time to jack the pressure up to the breaking point. I've heard some of you say that we don't really understand the Kilrathi, that down deep they are just like us. I don't think so. Maybe there'll come a day when we can live peacefully with them, but unfortunately it is not now. We must deal with them through strength. All our psy-ops studies have shown that if the Kilrathi have contempt for anything it is for one who displays hesitation or weakness. Even their word for such a person, tuka, is spoken with a sneering contempt, a word so insulting that a Kilrathi challenged with such a smear will fight to the death. And I tell you now that we are tuka in their eyes if we fall for this subterfuge."
There was an angry ripple in the room and even Tolwyn's superiors stirred uncomfortably.
"Only now are we really starting to learn of their political and social system. Take that information and use it, consider the suggestion formulated by the psy-ops division, plan K-7, which called for specific strikes against the holdings of only one or two families, making them share an unequal burden and perhaps cause a permanent rift triggering a civil war. Now is not the time to stop, it's the time to finish this war on our terms."
Jason could sense the frustration and heartbreak in Tolwyn's voice and looking around the room he saw the division in feelings, some present nodding their heads in agreement, while others sat in silence, their faces like masks.
We are making the agreement on our terms," Jamison retorted sharply, her voice hard with anger.
"Our observation teams have been granted full access to Kilrathi ship yards as a gesture of good faith to see that no further military construction takes place. They're pulling back their frontier bases and limiting patrols to light corvette-size ships within the demilitarized zone. I've spent countless hours hashing out the details of this with Baron Jukaga and I know that he is just as fervent in his desire to see this war end as we are."
"He is a liar."
A bit startled, all in the room turned to the Firekka representative who throughout the two long days of meetings had remained silent.
Rikik, the flock leader of her world, stood up and cocked her head, looking about the room. The Firekka were something of a strange sight, looking like eight foot parrots one only encountered in nightmares or hallucinations after a few too many drinks. Jason looked over at Hunter, who had helped to save Rikik's life after she was taken prisoner by the Kilrathi and his friend grinned.
"Baron Jukaga is a liar," Rikik announced, looking about the room. "If you humans are so foolish as to believe his words then you are doomed. Remember my planet, the only world we lived upon, was attacked by them for their Sivar ritual. Millions of my flock died, our cities were smashed. It will be a generation or more before we recover. I cannot now believe that you will agree to this foolishness."
"My good friend," Rodham said quietly, smiling as if Rikik were an old companion who might have spoken out of turn. "Remember we too have suffered in this war. It has lasted for over thirty years. More than a hundred colonial worlds, and half a dozen primary planets have been devastated. Billions have died, billions," he paused for a moment, his features pained and Jason knew it was not an act, for Rodham's youngest daughter had been killed during the First Enigma campaign.
He cleared his throat and continued.
"Thirty years of our blood, our wealth, and all our ingenuity has been poured into this conflict. Think of what we could have done with all that we have spent and lost if it had only been applied to our continued peaceful expansion into the universe.
"Admiral Tolwyn claims that the tide was starting to turn. I don't think so. We have become like two wrestlers of equal strength, locked in a hold neither can use to bring his opponent down, and yet unable to break the hold of his opponent. How much longer must this go on? Another thirty years, another generation dead and still no end in sight, until finally, one day we'll have bombed and burned and stabbed each other back into the stone age?"
"Baron Jukaga has offered a way out, to simply stop the killing. It is just that simple. We simply agree to stop. I know you in the military don't like this; you're thinking of all your comrades who have died and now you wonder for what? I'll tell you that they did die for something. It wasn't victory, since that is impossible, but they did prevent defeat. To call for the war to continue now with the argument that the sacrifice had to mean something is simply to ask for the pouring of yet more blood on the graves of those who do not want it."
He hesitated for a moment.
"I do not want my grandchildren to die the way my daughter has. I think she would want them to live, to grow up without fear and live in peace."
"They'll die, only it'll be worse. At least your daughter died fighting, your grandchildren will die having their throats cut for the Sivar, the way my people died," Rikik cried, her voice shrill.
"I think that's out of order and insensitive," an aide sitting behind Rodham snapped angrily.
"One can't worry about being sensitive when the issue is the survival of a nation or of an entire race," Rikik said in reply. "I'm sick to death of the word sensitivity when it is a mask for those who wish to advance their own cause at the expense of others. If the Confederation is foolish enough to take this deal, then I will take the Firekka out of the Confederation.
"And who will protect you then?" Jamison replied sarcastically.
"You did a damn poor job of protecting us when the Kilrathi hit us last time, your fleet withdrawing 'out of strategic necessity,' I think you called it. It couldn't be any worse on our own, and I'll tell you this, there'll be more than one frontier colonial world that will go with us. You don't even see members of the Landreich worlds or the Grovsner colonies here, since they want no part of this peace."
"That's treason," Jamison sputtered, "and if the colonial worlds violate the armistice they will be disciplined.
"No, its survival and mark my words, there'll come a day when you will choke on the papers you plan to sign here this day. And as for disciplining the colonial worlds, just try it," Rikik said with a cold laugh.
She looked around the room, more than one of the military personnel looking at her and nodding. Without another word she drew back from the table and stalked from the room, followed by her one aide.
"Old K'Kai sure has taught her niece well," Hunter whispered, waving a slight greeting to his Firekka comrade as she followed her niece out of the room.
There was a moment of uneasy silence.
"I think that continued debate on this subject will only serve to cause more animosity and outbreaks," Rodham finally said. "I thank all of you for your input over the last two days regarding this issue.
"Here it comes, Ian whispered.
"I plan to sign the articles of the armistice within the hour and with it establish a bilateral peace commission to work towards a permanent treaty between the Terran Confederation and the Kilrathi Empire. You are invited to join me if you wish. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen."
Rodham stood up and walked out of the room, followed by the civilians and staff.
"Damn them to hell!"
Jason looked over at Admiral Banbridge who flung his memo computer down on the table and stormed out of the room through the opposite door.
Tolwyn turned and looked back at Ian.
"Well, your Firekka friends sure played a damn fine scene," he said with a grin.
"Think they'd really do it?" Jason asked, turning to Ian.
Ian smiled.
"Those birds might not look like much when you first meet them, but I'll tell you this, they make the finest liquor in this corner of the universe and straight or drunk when they make a promise they keep it."
"What about that threat of the colonies not observing the armistice?" Jason asked.
"Let's not talk of that now, Tolwyn said quietly. "Shall we go watch the show?"
Though he hated to admit it, Jason found that he actually did want to see what was already being hailed as the most historic moment in a hundred years, as if all the victories and even the defeats of the war had already become secondary.
Tolwyn stood up and started for the door that Rodham had gone through. Admiral Noragami, head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff came around from the other side of the table and approached Tolwyn.
"Nice try, Geoff, but it was doomed from the start."
Tolwyn nodded.
"I heard that a little something regarding you has just come to light as well," Nuragami said quietly.
Tolwyn merely smiled and Nuragami extended his hand.
"Take care of yourself, Geoff," Nuragami said and turning he went out the opposite door taken by Banbridge. Knowing how Tolwyn felt about the whole affair, Jason was more than a little surprised that his admiral was not boycotting the signing as well.
They passed down a long corridor lined with Marine security guards and stepped into an open cavernous hall which served as the hangar bay for this deep space base, the vacuum of space on the other side kept out by the magnetic lock field
How many times have I looked out a bay like that, he thought, sitting inside my fighter, strapped in and waiting for the launch signal? The mere thought of it set his heart racing again. Even though he was glad the fighting had stopped, he knew he'd miss it, the adrenaline rush of launching, the pure joy of flying the most powerful fighter craft ever built. If this peace really did hold, all of that was finished. It was a strange feeling of relief and regret all at once.
"Gonna miss it," Hunter said softly, standing by Jason's side.
Hunter nodded that they should follow Tolwyn, who was slowly weaving his way through the crowd to stand with the small knot of military personnel who had decided to witness the event
A polished durasteel table two meters wide was the only furniture in the middle of the hangar. On the table, in ornate gold embossed folders rested the armistice agreement with copies in Standard English and Kilrah. To one side more than a hundred representatives of the Confederation were present, easily outnumbered by the hundreds of members of the press. The other side of the table and hangar was empty.
A door on the far side of the hangar opened and a lone Kilrathi emerged without fanfare, dressed in a simple uniform of scarlet and gold. The press turned their cameras on him, several breaking with protocol and shouting questions.
Baron Jukaga turned, looked at them, and smiled, raising his paw in a friendly wave. The press went wild, moving in closer.
"I have a little formality to attend to first," he announced, his standard English nearly perfect and free of the tendency of putting a hissing s on soft ending words and hard k's on most others, "then we'll have a chance to talk later," and his disarming informality caused several of the press to laugh.
Behind him came yet more Kilrathi, these in the more formal garb of high officers and they filed silently past the cameras and lined up behind Jukaga. Jason noticed that there was only one Kilrathi photographer recording the scene as compared to the swarm of reporters from the Confederation side.
"We have reached agreement then?" Jukaga asked standing by the other side of the table opposite Rodham.
The president smiled, nodded, and pointed at the formal documents set in the middle of the table.
Without hesitating Jukaga took up a pen, signed the documents, and then slid them back to Rodham, who signed it as well. The two shook and Jukaga turned and looked back at the press.
"Friends, this armistice is but a start. Let us truly come to realize that the universe is big enough for both of us and that a permanent peace can be arrived at. These proceedings are now ended."
A cheer erupted and Tolwyn, shaking his head, looked back at Jason.
"He certainly knows his Earth history with that closing line. Let's hope it isn't prophetic as to who the ultimate winner is."
Jason wanted to ask him to explain the reference but decided to let it pass.
The crowd started to break apart into smaller groups many heading for the refreshments arrayed along a side wall. Jason followed in Tolwyn's wake and noticed a Kilrathi officer coming up to them.
"You are Tolwyn? ' the Kilrathi asked.
"Yes."
"I am Tukarg. I was in command of the carrier Gi'karga in what you call the Third Enigma Campaign. I wished to tell you your counterstrike was masterful."
Taken off guard Tolwyn said nothing.
"I also understand you commanded the opening of the recent action at Munro."
Tolwyn still remained silent. From behind Tukarg another Kilrathi appeared and Jason was surprised to see that it was the Baron.
He was not as tall as most Kilrathi and could even be called slight by their standards, though that was still powerful when compared to a human. His coat was a smooth golden red, and from what little Jason knew of Kilrathi blood lines, the coloring was a mark of the most noble breeding. His eyes were dark, almost coal black, but as he approached a flash of reflected light made them appear to glow for an instant with the color of fire.
"A nice quote of MacArthur," Tolwyn said as Jukaga approached. "Did it have some hidden meaning?"
Jukaga laughed softly.
"Maybe a bad choice on my part; I didn't want to imply that it was you surrendering to us."
"I understand you've read a lot of our literature.
Jukaga smiled.
"A hobby I've found fascinating. Your Chaucer's tales are much the same as our own Backrka's 'Tomes of Sivar,' about a group of pilgrims traveling to a holy shrine.
Tolwyn smiled.
"A nice choice of English works to study," Tolwyn said.
"Ah yes, you were born near Canterbury."
"However, the pilgrimage to the tomb of Thomas Becket had slightly different rituals than the blood feast of Sivar," Tolwyn replied.
"Different people, different customs, as they say, but nevertheless I do enjoy your literature."
"You've spent time then studying me?" Tolwyn asked.
"You were an adversary. I heard you led the first wave at Vukar Tag, of course I would want to know more of you."
"So you read Chaucer, is that it?"
Jukaga laughed
"Amongst others."
"And who are some of the others?" Tolwyn asked quietly.
Jukaga smiled.
"Political, intellectual writers."
"Such as Machiavelli, Sun Tzu," Tolwyn ventured, "or perhaps some pages from the writings of Mao or General Giap and his writings on how to weaken an opponent through means other than war; or perhaps a little Clausewitz or the Alpha Centurian theorist Vitivius the Younger."
"Why those in particular? Is this a recommended reading list?"
"No," Tolwyn said quietly, "just speculation."
"Ah, another mistrustful military man," Jukaga replied his voice pitched a little louder so that the press who had gathered at the edge of the group could hear better.
"Your assumption, not mine," Tolwyn replied softly.
"Yet another prophet of doom that peace will never work," and he paused for a second, noticing that several reporters and cameramen were jockeying into position to catch the encounter.
"Admiral, aren't we late for our dinner appointment?" Jason said, coming up behind Tolwyn, lying like mad, but unable to think of a better excuse to extract his commander.
"Don't forget, Geoffrey . . ." and Jukaga paused, "May I call you that? '
"My friends do," Tolwyn replied coldly.
"All right, then Admiral. Let me remind you that we Kilrathi have suffered just as much in this unfortunate war. We have lost millions as well. I've heard you people talk about atrocities, but we have suffered them too."
He looked over at Jason and smiled again.
"Though there were some of your warriors who did fight with honor and tried to protect our innocent women and children, even if they were furballs as you so ineloquently put it."
Jason felt uncomfortable by his attention but looked back at him, saying nothing.
Jukaga hesitated for a moment as if not wishing to say something.
"Speaking of atrocities," Tukarg, standing behind Jukaga, interjected.
"Let it drop, it's over," Jukaga replied
Tukarg shook his head
"I had clan blood on that ship," Tukarg said coldly and he turned to look at the press.
We have intelligence information that your Admiral Tolwyn launched an attack against one of our ships after he had already received the report that a preliminary armistice agreement had been reached and that all offensive action was to cease. Such an act is a war crime."
"An honest mistake," Jukaga said as if almost apologizing for Tukarg. "And besides," he said with a forced laugh, "now you've gone and revealed that we had cracked their latest fleet code.
"I'm sorry this has come up," Jukaga continued, "but perhaps there should be an investigation to clear your name."
"There's no need for an investigation," Tolwyn said quietly
"Oh, then of course you are innocent."
"No, quite the contrary," Tolwyn replied, "I did it because it was my duty. Now if you'll excuse me."
He nodded curtly and turned away.
The press swarmed after him shouting questions, shouldering Jason and Ian out of the way.
"Nicely done," Jason said coldly, looking straight at Jukaga.
For a brief instant he felt as if he could almost sense the contempt and then the smile returned.
"I didn't want it to happen. I know how a warriors blood can get up. It was unfortunate but such incidents happen in war. It was best to leave it forgotten now that it is over."
"But of course," Jason said coldly.
"You were the one who raided our home world, weren't you?"
"First to Kilrah," Jason said quietly, repeating what was now the slogan of his ship.
Again there seemed to be that flash.
"Masterful; I studied it intently afterwards."
"I just bet you did," Ian replied.
"Perhaps we'll talk again someday," Jukaga said stiffly and turning he walked off, the smile returning as he waved to the cameras.
"Come on," Jason said angrily, looking over at Hunter, "let's get out of here, I need to find a bathroom."
Jukaga turned back and watched Tolwyn disappear from view, surrounded by a horde of press shouting questions. Tolwyn's actions had caught him by surprise. It was a convenient way of removing one of the finest fleet admirals of the Confederation and to discredit the fleet as well. And yet it struck him as strange that Tolwyn would allow his passion to get the better of him. It did not fit the pattern at all of a man he had studied so intently. He found that he almost felt sorry for him. How easily he had been destroyed, not in battle, but by a ruse. The ever eager reporters of the Confederation, who would now destroy a man that the best fleet officers of the Empire found to be unbeatable.
Yes, he could feel sorry for him even if he was the enemy, and that realization Jukaga found to be almost troubling.
CHAPTER THREE
"All engines stop."
"All engines stop, sir. Hard dock to station secured"
Docking a ship the size of an escort carrier was always a bit of a tricky job, and with the maneuver finished Jason sat back in his chair and took a sip of coffee.
He looked around at his bridge crew who stood silent. The speeches had already been made earlier when the rest of the crew, except for the few hands necessary for this final run out from Earth orbit, had transferred off.
There was simply nothing more to be said.
"Secure reactor to cold shut down," he said softly.
He paused for a moment.
"I guess that's it."
The crew was unable to reply.
"Dock yard officer coming aboard," a petty officer announced and Jason nodded.
A minute later he heard the footsteps in the corridor and tried to force a smile. A lone officer came on to the bridge, faced Jason, and saluted.
"All engines stop, sir. Hard dock to station secured"
Docking a ship the size of an escort carrier was always a bit of a tricky job, and with the maneuver finished Jason sat back in his chair and took a sip of coffee.
He looked around at his bridge crew who stood silent. The speeches had already been made earlier when the rest of the crew, except for the few hands necessary for this final run out from Earth orbit, had transferred off.
There was simply nothing more to be said.
"Secure reactor to cold shut down," he said softly.
He paused for a moment.
"I guess that's it."
The crew was unable to reply.
"Dock yard officer coming aboard," a petty officer announced and Jason nodded.
A minute later he heard the footsteps in the corridor and tried to force a smile. A lone officer came on to the bridge, faced Jason, and saluted.