Fleet Action (wc-3) by William Forstchen (100 books to read in a lifetime txt) 📕

fall as well, for the drive to killing is so strong in our blood that we will quickly turn upon each other."

"Did anyone from Intelligence ever talk to you Cats about this?" Jason asked.

"Oh many times. They were quite nice, some could even speak Kilrah, a wondrous and strange thing coming from the mouth of a human. We laughed and told them what we thought."

"And the reports were ignored," Ian said coldly.

"There is a game here," Kirha said, "and you humans are, how do you say it, paki, pawns, for the power play of Jukaga. I think his wish is to use the peace to somehow then blame the Emperor, eliminate him, and then successfully finish the war himself."

"You sound like you don't like Jukaga."

Kirha growled, his fur bristling.

"He and his hrai think my coat not red enough, my blood not thick enough; my own hrai is descendent from the Ragitagha," and as he pronounced his clan name his teeth flashed, his mane standing out so that he appeared to nearly double in size and the crowd backed up a bit, looking at him wide eyed.

"The Ki'ra," and he hissed, spitting on the floor, "if they think they can take the throne under the Baron, they must bring a great Victory. By the blood of my clan I promise you there will be war again and your leaders are fools not to see it."

"Just like Tolwyn figured it," Jason said coldly, and he heard a lot of angry mutters of agreement.

"Tolwyn, that traitor," a voice announced from the back corner of the room, "they should have shot the bastard"

The room went silent, everyone turning to look at the speaker, who sat at a dimly lit table, surrounded by half a dozen men and women who looked around nervously. Jason could tell instantly that they were outsiders and that reaction he found to be curious. He'd been around military types for so long a group of obvious civilians in a military bar seemed strange.

Nearly everyone who frequented the place now were either the few still serving with the fleet or ex-service, easily identified by the gold star of the army, fleet pin, or fouled anchor pin of a Marine on his collar. There was also an unexplainable something else that so easily set the veteran aside, a bit of a distant far away look, from having seen the far reaches of known space, from having fought, and far too often having seen friends die. The six in the corner were not of the club.

The room went quiet for a moment and Jason finally broke the ice.

"It's a free Confederation, go ahead and speak up if you want to," he announced.

A short portly man stood up and came over to the bar, followed a bit nervously by the rest of his group.

"Doctor Torg's the name, he said, "I didn't get yours."

"I didn't give it, but it's Bondarevsky."

"Oh yes," one of the women behind Torg gasped. "I saw the holo about you. Oh, the girl you loved was just so beautiful."

"The actress didn't look anything like her," Jason said quietly.

"But still it was so sad," and she came up to Jason's side and actually touched him on the shoulder and then looked back excitedly at her friends.

Another woman in the group looked at the excited girl and shook her head.

"Say, Lisa, just back off a bit, OK."

"But he's famous, Elaine."

"I don't think he really wants the attention," Elaine replied.

Jason nodded her a thanks and then looked back at Torg.

"You don t like the Admiral, is that it?" Doomsday growled.

Torg looked over at Doomsday and then turned away, ignoring him.

"Do you know how much this war's been costing us?" Torg asked.

"I think so," Jason said quietly.

"Just under eight trillion a year."

"That wasn't the cost I was thinking of," Jason replied slowly, his voice barely a whisper.

"The Baron is right. Didn't you see his interview on the holo yesterday?"

"We kind of missed it, Doomsday interjected, so please enlighten us."

"Why, he said that this war was nothing but a conspiracy on the part of the military to get power and make money. The longer the war dragged on, the more power your admirals, generals, and military suppliers got."

"Oh, Baron Jukaga said this," a pilot from the other side of the bar said, "how interesting, and what about their fleet? I guess they're innocent."

"Why, he admitted that their fleet and military had done the same thing too."

"Was this holo shown in the Empire as well?" Kirha asked.

Torg looked up at him nervously.

"I don't know, I guess so. He said that a full report would soon be issued by the Kilrathi-Human Friendship Committee."

"The what?" several patrons of the bar asked in unison.

"Why, it's just a wonderful idea," the excited girl announced as she walked to the far wall to look at the rows of silver mugs. "Doctor Torg is a member of the committee, he's even met the Baron."

"The Baron is organizing a friendship committee that will provide for peaceful exchanges between our peoples," Torg said. "I think he's really quite sensitive to our culture, to a tolerance for multicultural diversity in the universe, and the rights of indigenous peoples of all races to live in peace. I've even arranged for him to speak at my university on Earth about his understanding of our literature and how to strengthen our ties of peace."

"Just wonderful. I can't wait to attend," Doomsday said, the sarcasm dripping in his voice.

"I think you're being too narrow minded in all of this," Torg announced, looking at Doomsday and at the rest of the patrons who were shaking their heads.

"Narrow minded. I hung my hide out on the line for over fifteen years with the fleet and you're saying I'm narrow minded?" Doomsday snapped.

"That's the problem with military types like you," Torg replied with a superior disdain. "You forget to look at the broader issues. This war was a lot more complicated than kill or be killed. You military types just don't see the