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