Anderson, Poul Flandry 14 The Game of Empire

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dominions.
Their faces filled the multiple screens of the communication set before him. He had had it brought out
onto a towertop of his castle. At this tremendous moment he wanted to stand overlooking the lands of his
Vach, while its ancient battle banners snapped above him in the wind. The sun Korych cast brilliance on
forested mountainside, broad fields and clustered dwellings in the valley beneath, snow-peaks beyond. A
fangryf winged on high, hunting. On a terrace below, his sons stood at attention, in ancestral armor,
honoring their forebears and their posterity, the wholeness of the Race.
"That which we have worked for in secret has come to pass amidst trumpet calls," Tachwyr said. "Our
patience reaps its reward. The word has reached me. Magnusson has risen. Already his ships are on their
way to combat."
A hiss of joy went from every countenance. Gazes became full of an admiration that approached
worship. He, Tachwyr the Dark, himself a commander of space squadrons until he succeeded to the
Handship of the Dathyrs and ultimately got the lordship of Merseia he, this gaunt and aging male in a
plain black robe, had brought them to triumph.
He knew what the thought was, and raised a cautionary arm. "Not yet dare we exult," he said. "We
have scarcely begun. Victory could elude us, as it eluded generation after generation before us. The great
Brechdan Ironrede fashioned a scheme that would have ruined the Terrans utterly, and saw it crumble in
his grasp. In his name, after the name of the Roidhun, shall we go forward."
"What precisely is the news?" asked Odhar the Curt.
"Scarcely more than I have said," Tachwyr answered. "The dispatch will enter your private databases,
of course, and you can study it at leisure; but do not expect much detail across a gulf that is many parsecs
wide and deep."
For an instant the wish twinged in him, for some interstellar equivalent of radio, instantaneous, rather
than courier vessels and message torpedoes which might at the very best cover slightly over half a
light-year per hour. If the pulsations of warped space that made them detectable across twice that
distance could be modulated And indeed they could, but only within detection range. The same
quantum uncertainties that made it possible to evade the speed limitations of the relativistic state made it
infeasible to establish relay stations & Well, everybody labored under the same handicap. Much of
Tachwyr's plan depended on using it against the enemy.
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"Have instructions gone to our embassy on Terra?" inquired Alwis Longtail.
"Not yet," Tachwyr said. "First I want this group to consider my draft of the letter. You may well have
suggestions, and in any event you should know just what the contents are."
"Is there any reason why those should be specific?"
"No, nothing has changed in that respect. We must trust Chwioch to fit his actions to whatever the
situation happens to be." That faith was not misplaced. Chwioch might bear the sobriquet "the Dandy"
from his youth, but even then he had been bailiff of Dhangodhan, and at present he could better be called
"the Shrewd" except that he preferred the Terrans underestimate him. He would find no, create a
pretext for breaking off the negotiations, toward a nonaggression pact which he had so skillfully been
prolonging. That would send waves of dismay over nobles, rich commoners, and intellectuals throughout
the Empire, which in turn would bring an outcry for a "new politics" pointed in a more comforting
direction.
Meanwhile Chwioch would explain, on every occasion he could find or make, that in the absence of
such a pact, incidents leading to armed clashes were inevitable. When a single capital ship carried
weapons sufficient to devastate an entire planet, and when the Empire could not keep its own house in
order, Merseia was obliged to secure the debatable regions. This might sometimes require hot pursuit,
into space claimed by the Empire. Obviously the Riodhunate regretted every occurrence, and stood
ready to renew efforts to establish a lasting peace as soon as the Terran government was able to join in.
But the Terran government was going to be preoccupied for a period that might run into years &
"When shall we put the Navy on full alert?" asked Gwynafon of Brightwater.
"Perhaps never," Tachwyr said. "Definitely not soon, barring the unforeseeable contingency. After all,
the Terran embassy here will be reporting what it observes. The commanders of chosen units are already
prepared for action. Best we not be too impulsive as regards them, either. Let events develop a while."
The question had been ridiculous, especially since the entire strategy had been under repeated,
intensive discussion. However, Gwynafon was new on the Council and not very intelligent and a
nephew of the Roidhun You used what materials the God put at your disposal.
Brief pain slashed through Tachwyr. Had Aycharaych been alive The original plan was his, and he
had taken a direct part in the early preparations. But Aycharaych died when the Dennitzans bombarded
his planet. At least, he vanished; you could never be altogether sure of anything about the Chereionite.
With him had passed away the central machinery of Merseia's Intelligence Service. The Roidhunate had
been half blinded, hideously vulnerable, impotent to take any initiative, for a decade or worse, while a
new structure was being forged. If Terra had struck meanwhile
But that wasn't in the nature of an Empire old, sated, and corrupt. Instead, its politicians wondered
aloud why their realm and the Roidhunate kept failing to reach agreement. Was there not an entire galaxy
to share?
As if any responsible Merseian leader could turn his attention elsewhere, when such a power lurked at
his back! Once upon a time humankind had borne the same universe-spanning ambitions that the Race
did now. It might well come to cherish them again if not on Terra, then on the daughter worlds. Or a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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