"With all due respect, sir, I'm entitled to my opinion," Rollins said stubbornly.

"Indeed you are. But if I hear any more of this defeatist talk, you'll be reassigned to Waste Recycling, where your crap belongs. Get my drift?"

"Telling him to shut up won't make the truth go away, sir," one of the others spoke up.

"If it is the truth, wailing about it isn't going to change a damned thing," Blair said. "We'll just have to play the cards we're dealt. But like I said, the grunts at the front hardly ever know what's really happening. Hell, maybe it's worse than old Gloom and Doom here thinks. But maybe it's a lot better. Point is, if we decide everything's lost anyway, and give up, we might end up letting down some folks who need us to turn things around." He paused. "I'm not telling anyone what to think. Or even saying you can't shoot the bull over a few drinks. But spreading the worst possible rumors — that's crossing the line. I've heard my share of rumors that were a lot less nasty, and I'm sure Rollins here has heard them too. . . but those don't get much play, because they're not spicy enough."

Rollins gave him a long look, then shrugged. "Maybe you're right, sir," he said. "Maybe I do like to shoot my mouth off.

"Well, as of now, consider the safety on." Blair forced a smile. "Anyway, aren't there better things to talk about than this damned war? The girl you left behind . . . or the shore leave you'll never live down?" He turned to the bartender. "Rosty . . . a round on my account. But only to the ones who have something pleasant to talk about, okay?"

That boosted some spirits, and the others were laughing and chattering happily as Blair moved to an empty table by the viewport. He sat there staring into the darkness.

He could have been quoting from a manual on keeping up morale when he'd spoken to them. The trouble was he didn't believe a word of it himself.

Blair paused at the entrance to the captain's ready room, reluctant to touch the buzzer. Victory was astir with fresh rumors today, speculations rising from the arrival of a courier ship from Sector HQ at Torgo. No one knew what word the ship brought to Eisen, but everyone was sure it heralded a change of orders, perhaps fresh action. Blair wasn't looking forward to learning what was in store for them now. He didn't feel ready to go back into action again so soon, not with the failure at Locanda still hanging over him. It wasn't something he could admit to anyone, either, not without requesting a transfer to some rear-echelon outfit, off the firing line.

As tempting as that idea might be, Christopher Blair refused to give in to it. There was no way he could let others fight the war while he sought safety. He owed it to all his comrades who had stayed and fought.

With an effort of will, he forced himself to compose his features and hit the buzzer.

"Enter," Eisen's voice came, and the door slid open.

"Reporting as ordered, sir," Blair said.

"Ah, Colonel, good." Eisen stood up, and the officer in crisp whites opposite him did likewise. "This is Major Kevin Tolwyn, from sector HQ."

"Hey, Lone Wolf," Blair said, genuinely pleased to see the younger man. He advanced to clasp Tolwyn's hand, smiling broadly. "Its been a long time, kid."

"Another old acquaintance, Colonel?" Eisen asked.

"Yes, sir," Blair responded. "We served together on the Tarawa a few years back." He looked Tolwyn over. Short, baby-faced, the nephew of Admiral Geoff Tolwyn didn't look old enough to shave, much less to be a Confed officer. "Major, now, is it? That's a pretty good bump. You were only Lieutenant Tolwyn last time I heard . . ."

Tolwyn blushed. "Brevet rank, Colonel. I made Flight Captain after the Battle of Terra, the brevet came through after I got wounded during the mop-up after Vespus." He hesitated. "I guess one fighter too many cooked off underneath me and my uncle pulled me into a staff job for awhile, he said I'd already cashed all my lucky chips in and he wasn't going to take a chance on next time."

"Staff slot, huh. I'm sorry to hear it. You should be on the flight line, kid, where you belong."

"Don't I know it," Tolwyn said. "But . . . I didn't have any say in the matter. The admiral wouldn't take no for an answer, and here I am."

Blair nodded in understanding. He'd heard stories of Admiral Tolwyn's open displays of emotion, first when he had feared Kevin missing or dead, then later when the younger man was recovered and returned to the fleet. Maybe the staff job was a real effort to keep Kevin Tolwyn out of harm's way. He was, after all, the admiral's closest surviving kin and had done more than his share of fighting while serving on the Tarawa. The Medal of Honor on his chest was more than enough proof of that.

"If I can interrupt the reunion, Colonel, I think we'd better get down to business." Eisen gestured to the chairs by his desk. As they sat down, he continued. "Major Tolwyn brings us fresh orders from HQ. It looks like the war's heating up, at least as far as we're concerned. Major?"

"The attack on Locanda Four was a real wake-up call," Tolwyn said. "We knew the cats were working on a number of strategic weapons projects, but we didn't expect them to bring them into play as long as their fleet was still able to hold its own. It s against everything in the Kilrathi philosophy to resort to this kind of blatant genocide. They're supposed to like their fights up close and personal, and this is a complete departure from everything we thought we knew about them."

"Do we have any evidence they're going to use bioweapons elsewhere?" Blair asked. "Or was this some kind of . . . special case?

"We don't know," Tolwyn said. "And that has the High Command doing some serious nail-biting, let me tell you. All we know is that the cats have escalated the war, and if we don't match the ante we might as well just fold now."

"Match the ante . . . how?" Blair asked.

"The Confederation's been working on its share of doomsday weapons, too," Tolwyn told them. "The Battle of Terra scared the hell out of all of us. The big Kilrathi offensive caught everyone off guard. I don't think I need to tell you that we're on the ropes. One more attack like that and the game's over. Remember, they managed to drop over twenty standard warheads on Earth in the last attack. If only one of them had been a bio the homeworld would be a lifeless desert today. There's no way around it, this one's to the death and we have a couple of counter punches almost ready to go."

Blair said nothing. The idea of matching the Kilrathi atrocity at Locanda with a Terran retaliation against civilians appalled him, but he tried to keep his reaction from showing in his voice or expression.

Tolwyn fixed Blair with his gaze. "One of the projects is being pushed by General Taggart and the folks at Covert Ops, and the other's my uncle's pet project. That's why he got pulled from Concordia just before it went down."

Eisen cleared his throat. "If you don't mind, Major, I'd appreciate it if you'd stick to the briefing."

"Sorry, sir," Tolwyn said. "Both projects actually stem from the same basic research. It seems some of our survey work off Kilrah during Tarawa's little end run raid there a few years back has yielded some unexpected results. Kilrah is much less stable, in planetological terms, than Terra. Subject to seismic problems, quakes, volcanoes, the whole bit. Apparently there are some severe tidal stresses at work on Kilrah that render the planet extremely vulnerable to widescale seismic activity." He paused. "Given a big enough shaking, Kilrah would literally come apart.