Geri blinked her large brown eyes at Hector. “Will you show me how it works? I’m terribly poor at things like this.”
Restraining an impulse to leap off the floor and do a triple somersault, Hector said simply, “Oh, there’s really nothing to it…” he glanced at the sweaty-faced servant, then added, “once you get the hang of it.”
Spencer was saying, with some edge to his voice, “But when you defeated Kerak, you had the Szarno Confederacy and several other star-nations on your side. Now your old alliances are gone. You are alone against Kerak.”
Martine sighed like a man being forced to exert great patience. “I repeat, Sir Harold, that Acquatainia is strong enough to defeat any Kerak attack without Star Watch assistance.”
Leoh shook his head, but said nothing.
Lal Ponte, floating beside his Prime Minister and looking like a small satellite near a large planet, said, “The Prime Minister is making plans for an impenetrable defense system, a network of fortified planets and star-ship fleets so strong that Kerak would never dare to attack it.”
“And suppose,” Spencer countered, “Kerak attacks before this defense line is completed? Or attacks from a different direction?”
“We will fight and win,” Martine said.
Spencer ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Don’t you realize that an alliance with the Commonwealth— even a token alliance—will force Kanus to pause before he dares to attack? Your objective, it seems to me, should be to prevent a war from starting. Instead, you’re concentrating on plans to win the war, once it begins.”
“If Kanus wants war,” Martine said, “we will defeat him.”
“But he can be defeated without war,” Spencer insisted.
Leoh added, “No dictator can last long without the threat of war to keep his people frightened enough to serve him. And if it becomes clear that Acquatainia cannot be attacked successfully…”
“Kanus wants war,” Martine said.
“And so do you, apparently,” Spencer added.
The Prime Minister glared at Spencer for a long moment, then turned and said, “Excuse me, I am neglecting my other guests.”
He pushed away, accompanied by a half-dozen followers, leaving Spencer, Leoh, and Lal Ponte in the middle of a suddenly dissipating crowd.
Geri and Hector floated close to the transparent shell, looking out at the stars, barely aware of the music and voices from the party.
“Hector.”
“Yes?”
“Will you promise me something?”
“Sure. What is it?”
Her face was so serious, so beautiful, he could feel his pulse throbbing through his body.
“Do you think Odal will ever return to Acquatainia?”
The question surprised him. “Uh… I don’t know. Maybe. I sort of doubt it. I mean, well.…”
“If he ever does .…” Geri’s voice trailed off.
“Don’t worry,” Hector said, holding her close to him. “I won’t let him hurt you… or anybody else.”
Her smile was overpowering. “Hector, dearest Hector. If Odal should ever return here, would you kill him for me?”
Without a microsecond’s thought, he replied, “I’d challenge him as soon as I saw him.”
Her face grew serious again. “No. I don’t mean in the dueling machine. I mean really. Kill him.”
“I don’t understand the Prime Minister’s attitude,” Leoh said to Spencer and Lal Ponte.
“He has great pride,” Ponte answered, “the pride of a military man. And we have great pride in him. He is the man who can lead Acquatainia back to glory. Dulaq and Massan… they were good men, but civilians, too weak to deal with Kanus of Kerak.”
“They were political leaders,” Spencer rumbled. “They realized that war is an admission of failure. War is the last resort, when all else fails.”
“We are not afraid of war!” Ponte snapped.
“You should be,” Leoh said.
“Why? Do you doubt that we could defeat Kerak?”
“Why run the risk when you could avoid the war altogether?”
The little politician waved his arms agitatedly, a maneuver that caused him to bob up and down weightlessly. “We are not afraid of the Kerak Worlds! You assume that we are cowards who must run under the skirts of your Terran Commonwealth at the first sign of danger!”
“Lack of judgment is worse than cowardice,” said Leoh. “Why do you insist?”
“You accuse the Acquatainian government of stupidity?”
“No, I…”
His voice rising higher and higher, Ponte squeaked, “Then you accuse me of stupidity… or the Prime Minister, perhaps?”
“I am only questioning your judgment about.…”
“And I accuse you of cowardice!” Ponte screeched.
People were turning to watch them now. Ponte bobbed up and down, raging. “Because
“Now really…” Spencer began.
“You are a coward!” Ponte screamed at Leoh. “And I will prove it. I challenge you to meet me in your own dueling machine!”
For the first time in years, Leoh felt his own temper flaring. “This is the most asinine argument I’ve ever seen.”
“I challenge you!” Ponte insisted. “Do you accept the challenge, or will you slink away and prove your cowardice?”
“Accepted!” Leoh snapped.
4
The sun was a small bluish-white disk high in the sky of Meklin, one of Kerak’s forced agriculture planets. Up here on the ridge, the wind felt chill to Odal, despite the heat in the valley farmlands below. The sky was cloudless, but the wind-rippled trees rustled a mosaic of gold and red against the blue.
Odal saw Runstet sitting on the grass in a patch of sunlight with his wife and three small children. The oldest, a boy, could hardly have been more than ten. They were enjoying a picnic, laughing at something that had escaped Odal’s notice.
The Kerak major stepped forward. Runstet saw him and paled. He got up to face Odal.
“This is not what I want to see,” Odal said quietly. “You’ll have to do better.”
Runstet stood there, rooted to the spot, while everything around him began to flicker, dim. The children and their mother, still laughing, grew faint and their laughter faded. The woods seemed to go misty, then disappeared altogether. Nothing was visible except Runstet and the fearful look on his face.
“You are trying to hide your memories from me by substituting other memories,” Odal said. “We know that you met with certain other high-ranking army officers at your home three months ago. You claim it was a social occasion. I would like to see it.”
The older man, square-jawed, his hair an iron gray, was obviously fighting for self-control. Fear was in him, Odal knew, but he also sensed something else: anger, stubbornness, and pride.
“Inferior-grade officers were not invited to the… to the party. It was strictly for my old classmates, Major.” General Runstet accented the last word with as much venom as he could muster.
