Peter Telep - Pilgrim stars

"Or I'll find a Confederation battle group waiting for me. This may be an elaborate scheme to bring down my entire clan. Why should I trust you?"

"You can verify all of this with Satorshck, but you will waste a lot of time. The Caxki clan will not secede until you confirm that the coordinates are correct. Nothing will happen until you report. But it is your duty to report as soon as you reach that system. If you choose to return home now, you do so with a zu'kara blade to your throat. As the apes say, you have nothing to lose."

"Except my entire hrai."

"I've done my part. Do yours. And once you gain control of that ship, you will return it to K'n'Rek, where our clans will assume joint possession."

"Or where your clan will be waiting to seize the ship. I think I will waste the time and contact Satorshck." Vukar drew back his lips, fangs jutting out.

"Yes, you could. But my reconnaissance informs me that it will only take two, perhaps three of their standard days to finish taking on supplies. If you travel to K'n'Rek to contact Satorshck, you won't make it back to Aloysius in time. You'd find nothing more than gravitic residuum and ion emissions that might yield a rough estimate of her next location-or yield nothing. The time to strike is now."

Exhaling loudly, Vukar turned away from the screen, his thoughts now caught in a crossfire. He could almost believe that Dax'tri would hand him the information so that the Caxki clan would join forces with Ragitagha and dissolve the emperor's alliance-but the threat of deception still loomed.

"Vukar, do not spend too much time contemplating this," Dax'tri warned. "What does your heart tell you?"

Yes, that is where I have gone awry, Vukar thought. Fail to listen, fail to rely on your instincts, then you fail altogether. This is the way ofSivar. He had reminded Makorshk of that teaching, now he should heed it himself. He reached into his heart, straining for even the barest whisper of truth.

Though Commodore Richard Bellegarde would never strike a perfect balance with his universe, he felt that in the past month he had come pretty close. He had been so busy analyzing the data from the Fourteenth Fleet's line captains that he had barely had time for self-pity and had only twice romanced his bottle since the admiral's visit to his quarters.

The no-fly zones they had established around the Pilgrim systems and enclaves and the task force they had deployed to capture the Kilrathi battle group within Vega sector kept everyone aboard the Concordia, especially Admiral Tolwyn, on the edge of their seats. Bellegarde especially enjoyed the reckless abandon, since he had been questioning his career with the Confederation Navy anyway. He and Tolwyn remained committed to their plan, whether it ruined their careers or not. If Aristee did not comply within the time allowed, Tolwyn would order the attack, an order that would send shock waves through the senate and the rest of the Confederation.

As Bellegarde sat in the wardroom with Tolwyn and Space Marshal Gregarov, he sensed that the precursors of those waves had already reached the space marshal and now bound her features in an unwavering grimace. She turned her hazel eyes on Tolwyn, took in a long breath, then, as always, measured each word as she spoke.

"Some members of the senate are already calling for my resignation, Geoff. They say I've employed one lunatic to find another. And the Pilgrim ambassadors have, to stay the least, been very vocal. You lied to the senate. You lied to me. What do you expect me to do?"

The admiral cocked a brow. "I wanted to keep you out of this. It's not your fault that I'm a… 'lunatic' But let my clock run out. Forty-five days. That's all I'm asking. The senate will know that we gave Aristee ample time to recover one of our drones and consider our terms."

"What if she doesn't find a drone? You'll destroy those systems and enclaves without even hearing from her?"

"To do anything less would be bowing to terrorists."

"No, I can't allow you to do that."

"Ma'am, we would wipe out those systems in retaliation for Mylon Three," Bellegarde explained. "And while some members of the senate disagree with our tactics, others applaud our efforts. As usual, they're split along party lines. Our opponents know that you'll never resign, and it would take them months to indict you. By then, Aristee could have destroyed God knows how many systems. For centuries, governments have refused to bargain with terrorists. And for centuries, that policy has worked. But here we are, trying to make a deal. And in the dealing, civilians will die. You can blame Aristee for that. Not us. You might think the cure is worse than the disease, but we need a cure-not a bandage. We will cut off the enemy, demoralize her, then bring her to her knees. She'll die alone."

"As will you," Gregarov quickly amended. "To think that you can kill billions of people without consequence… Commodore, that's beyond my comprehension."

Bellegarde steeled himself. "She's an extremist. Do you know of a better way to combat her? We demand she comes to us. She doesn't, they die."

"And then what? We're back to nothing." Gregarov regarded Tolwyn. "I see you've stoked his fire with your own. Unfortunately, I'm here to extinguish both of you. Effective immediately, I want you to loosen up your no-fly zones and allow food and fuel to be delivered to those people. You'll get your forty-five days, but you will not, under any circumstances, attack those systems and enclaves."

"Aristee suspects, or will suspect, that we're making empty threats," Tolwyn said, his voice even, but a hairline away from becoming impassioned. "Impenetrable no-fly zones are the first statement. If we fail to maintain those, we'll be lowering our hand. She'll have confirmation that we won't attack. Richard and I agonized over destroying one of the enclaves to show her that we mean business, but we resigned ourselves to the zones. We need them as they are."

"Some of those people are beginning to starve," Gregarov shot back. "How will you account for their deaths?"

Tolwyn slowly shook his head. "I won't. They're Aristee's victims. Not ours."

The space marshal sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "God, Geoff. What have we done? We're talking about genocide as though we're commenting on the financial markets."

"We didn't start the conversation, but we'll finish it."

She scrutinized him in an almost motherly fashion. "That kind of resolve will get you court martialed."

"Or promoted," Bellegarde said, wringing his hands as though her neck were between them.

"Have you gentlemen watched the Terran news channels?"

Bellegarde gave a half-shrug. "Just the local reports from McDaniel."

"Well, maybe you need some perspective." She reached into the attache case on the deck beside her, withdrew a data disk, then slid it into the table's holoplayer.

A female reporter in trendy dress tunic shimmered above them. "… so the incident over Triune was just the first in this on-going series of challenges to the Confederation Navy's blockade of all systems and enclaves. Three more cargo vessels were lost over McDaniel's World just this week, shot down by fighters from the Concordia battle group, and massive rioting has begun in Spiritia, the Pilgrim enclave in the Ymir system."

The reporter dissolved into the image of a city street straight from one of the Pilgrim metroplexes on planet. A wall of fifty or so heavily-armed Marines pressed forward with their riot shock-shields, into a far larger wall of two or three hundred civilians throwing rocks, bottles, and whatever they could get their hands on. The image turned Bellegarde's stomach, and his jaw fell slack as the Marines fired sylago gas into the crowds. Emerald clouds billowed over the mob and descended, turning grimaces into vacant stares. For a few hours, the gas would make the mob quite agreeable. But far in the distance, another fifty, maybe sixty Pilgrims wearing gas masks and brandishing confiscated rifles ran a ragged pattern toward the frontline.