Two Confederate worlds: Lepan and Latella.

In the nearly two weeks since the Confederacy had driven four Patrol dreadnoughts from Dar using only a single Stingray, Gaunis had captured two worlds, and the Confederates had done nothing to stop him.

Garrett Atkins shook his head as he made his way aimlessly down the corridor outside his quarters on the Confederate base.

They must be planning something, he thought. They couldn't allow Gaunis to pick off their worlds one by one until there were none left. Yet, if their recent behavior was any indication, they meant to do just that. Nothing.

Impossible, he told himself, they had to be up to something. If only he could discover what that something was.

Whatever it was, they were being damned secretive about it. On the surface, absolutely nothing had happened; no strategy meetings, no ship movement, nothing. At least nothing he'd been able to discover, and having been granted an unglamorous but highly informative position as a communications aide, he had access to a good portion of the base's general information and gossip. Yet he'd heard not a thing. He wondered what Gaunis thought of his silence—and the Confederacy's.

Today was Atkins' free day from work. Maybe he should go into town and check in with Commander Lehrton, just to let him know he was still on the job.

No, he decided a moment later, that was too risky. There was no reason to take the chance of being discovered when he had no information to impart. Better he spend his day wandering the base, listening and observing, trying to learn something.

"Warren? Scott, is that you?"

He halted at the sound of the th'Maran-accented female voice coming from behind him, and glanced over his shoulder.

Saunorel, the young th'Maran woman whose pregnancy he had reported to Tyler, was moving toward him at a rapid pace. She carried a small package in her hand.

Atkins had seen and spoken with Saunorel here in the residential section of the base several times. He knew that she came here regularly to visit the th'Maran who lived on the base and to run an occasional errand, so her presence here this early in the day was not unusual. He turned to meet her, his gaze roving unconsciously to her still-flat belly.

She stopped a meter before him, drew in a couple of gulps of air to catch her breath, and then glanced down self-consciously to where he looked. She placed her free hand on her abdomen, and then looked up at him coyly, her silver gaze timidly enchanting.

"You're not going to start in on me about running while I'm pregnant, are you?" she asked. "I get enough of that from Keth."

Atkins raised his eyes to meet hers. "Run all you want. Did you need me for something?"

"Yes, Keth asked me to take this to the general." She indicated the small box she carried. "I visited some friends and forgot about the delivery. Now I have to get home." She paused and looked down shyly, her long silver-white hair falling forward to shade her face. "I was wondering— I mean…" She paused, looking up through the cascade of glimmering hair. "If you're headed in that direction…?"

He smiled and reached for the box. "Yes, Saunorel, I'll take it to the general for you."

She flashed him a radiant look, and then smoothed the hair from her face and touched his arm in appreciation.

Their eyes met again momentarily, and Atkins felt a feathery sensation in his head, like a pleasant version of the feelings he sometimes experienced when Devin Tyler looked at him. Idly, he wondered if Tyler had picked up some th'Maran abilities during his stay on Marasyn.

"Thank you, Scott," Saunorel said. "If I can do anything for you…?"

"Yeah," he said, "take care of that baby."

"Babies," she corrected him as she turned away. "They're twins."

Atkins watched her disappear around a corner. Hadn't the other th'Maran been pregnant with twins, as well? Perhaps that was normal for th'Maran. He shrugged and started toward the administration area, pondering the box he held.

The container had no seal or lock, and after a brief moment of deliberation, he pulled it open. Inside were four data cards, each with an unbroken Confederate security band. He sighed at the sight of the seals, his momentary hope of discovering what information the cards contained shattered. Most likely, it wasn't especially interesting anyway. From what he'd been able to ascertain, Keth B'Okhaim worked in Intelligence, as Tyler had suspected, so whatever was on the cards probably wouldn't interest Gaunis. However, delivering them would give him a legitimate excuse to be in Admin near the general's office. Maybe he could pick up something interesting while he was there.

He quickened his pace.

The administration area of the base was as busy as ever, and Atkins had to show his ID twice and explain his mission once before arriving outside General Kamick's office.

He paused for a moment, and then opened the door to the general's reception area.

Instantly, he was struck by the bark of voices raised in anger. He froze in the open doorway, staring past the reception room's stark furnishings to the darkened wall and open door that separated the waiting area from the office. A Confederate Navy officer stood within the opening, his back toward Atkins. The tan-uniformed figure appeared to be the origin of the bitter words.

"I don't care what Mathan thinks, and I don't particularly care what you think either, General!" the man snapped, leaning into the office in his anger, his arms braced on the doorframe.

With a start, Atkins recognized Captain Westlex.

When had Westlex returned to the base? he wondered, and then pushed the thought aside as he realized that neither Westlex nor the general had heard him enter and were continuing their fierce exchange of words.

"You don't run this Confederacy, Westlex!" Kamick's voice rang harshly from inside the office. "We were willing to go along with this plan of yours so long as we had a say in it, but now—"

"I almost lost my ship doing things by committee!" Westlex interrupted hotly. "We're going to start doing things my way now."

"You can't force Captain Mathan to go along with your plan." The general's voice sounded restrained, as if he had decided to try a new approach and win Westlex over with calm reason.

"The hell I can't!" Westlex retorted, straightening and crossing his arms. "Teneia is prepared to back up any decision I make, and Mathan will do what they say or he'll lose his ship. We both know how he feels about that."

"I don't know, Jon. He just might back out of his command if faced with something like this."

The captain snorted. "Fine, let him. Terling would love to get command of Stingray Two."

There was a short silence during which Atkins sensed the tension building between the two men. For a moment, he considered slipping out of the room and pretending he had never been there, but the argument seemed far too important to abandon discovering its cause.

At last the general spoke again. "Okay, let's assume Mathan agrees to your plan," he said slowly. "Why attack Terra? Why not try for someplace less well defended?"

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Atkins swallowed a surprised gasp. Westlex was planning to attack Terra?!

"Because I want to hit Gaunis, and I want to hit him hard," the captain said. "I want that bastard to feel some of what he's put us through." He started to turn away, and then hesitated as the general made a comment Atkins did not catch.

"Don't try to stop me, Kamick," Westlex said. "And don't try to turn Mathan against my plans. He's going to help me, or he's going to pay dearly for going against me. It's too late for either of you to do anything about it anyway. All the plans are made. We hit Terra in six days."

With that, he spun on his heel and swept across the room toward the outer door. He did not notice Atkins until it was almost too late to stop his headlong charge. He jerked to an abrupt halt, glaring down at Atkins with a withering stare.

"You got a problem, boy?"

"Er—uh… No, sir," Atkins stammered. "Excuse me." He backpedaled out of the doorway as the captain pushed roughly past him and started down the corridor at a fuming, ground-devouring pace. Atkins watched him, and then stepped through the doorway with Westlex's final words to the general echoing in his mind.

We hit Terra in six days…

"What do you want, Warren?"

Atkins glanced up sharply to find the general glaring at him through the open office door.

He held out the box he'd brought and stepped hesitantly forward. "Uh, Saunorel wanted me to deliver these to you, sir. They, er—they're from Keth B'Okhaim."

Six days…

"Bring them," Kamick ordered brusquely, "and then get the hell out of here. I've got work to do."

"Right, sir." He moved into the office, set the box on the general's desk, and then scurried from the room. The office door slid shut behind him, and he paused briefly to glance at the impenetrable-seeming black barrier of wall and door. And then he rushed from the outer room, his mind racing.

Terra. Six days.

* * *

Jonathan waited inside a small conference room several meters down the corridor from Halav's office. He listened as the sound of hasty footsteps passed the open doorway, and then waited another full minute. Finally, he stepped into the hallway and turned back toward the general's office.

He moved directly to the office door and pressed the announcer. The door opened immediately and Jonathan peered inside, a sheepish look on his face.

"Are we still friends?" he asked.

Halav looked up from the box of sealed data cards he was examining. He set the box aside and stared at Jonathan for a long moment, his face expressionless.

"Only if you take back that comment about doing things by committee," Halav said finally.

"Rescinded." He stepped into the office and sat down. "But you have to promise not to tell Mathan I threatened to give his ship to Terling."

Halav considered the deal briefly. "For now. But I may need it later, in case you decide to get out of hand for real."

Jonathan smirked, refusing to distinguish the remark with a reply. "Where's Nico?"

"I have some of the base personnel tutoring him. I told him if he wanted to grow up to take my place, he had to get as smart as I am."

"That shouldn't take long."

Halav ignored the wisecrack. "By the way, welcome back to Arecia. I assume everything's going according to plan."

Jonathan nodded and settled in his seat. "Stingray One's back to her old black self, with a bit of new equipment added for fun. Mathan just transferred Two to Teneia for similar treatment, and the modifications to Cheops and the other ships are well on their way to completion. How are the Terran plans coming?"

"Everything's on schedule. Commander Terling wants to talk to you about them later this afternoon, on board your ship if that's all right with you."

"Determined to keep up the false front of disparity, eh?" Jonathan asked.

"After that show we just put on, we'd better keep it up," Halav said. "Our resident spy might get suspicious if we suddenly start acting friendly toward one another. Fortunately, with Mathan gone to Teneia, it shouldn't be too difficult to keep up appearances. Since he and I are supposed to comprise one side of the quarrel, I just have to make sure I'm not seen with either you or Terling."

"If the feud gets in the way, we can always stage a mending of our differences," Jonathan said. "In the meantime, let's let Gaunis think there's discontent in our ranks. It might give us an advantage."

"Then you think Atkins bought our little charade?"

"He bought it," Jonathan said, and then gestured to the box on the desk in front of Halav. "What did he do with the cards Sauni gave him?"

Halav picked out one of them at random and examined the security seal. "Nothing that I can see. They're blank anyway. Still, if this were a test of his trustworthiness, I'd say he passed." He returned the card to its case and looked at Jonathan. "But my Terran contacts assure me that the holo and description I sent is of Garrett Atkins, not Scott Warren, right down to that fancy laser pistol he carries."

"Well, we'll know for sure soon enough. Did you call off those people you've had keeping track of him?"

Halav nodded. "I had them back off last night and ordered them to stay away from now on. Keth's handling the surveillance single-handedly. I'd have given the job to Kressa if I thought she could do it without personal feelings getting in the way."

"Have you told her what's going on?" Jonathan asked.

"Not yet. The less people who know about Atkins, the better. And I'm not sure how she'd take it."

"Well, she knows I'm due back to Arecia today," Jonathan said, "and she'll come looking for me as soon as she's off duty. We're going to have to tell her something. She knows us too well to believe in this mock feud we've got going."

Halav shrugged. "You know her better than I do these days. Tell her whatever you think she can handle. But she's not going to like any of it."

"I don't know, she might take it all right."

"Yeah?" Halav looked doubtful. "I'm still glad you're the one who has to tell her."

* * *

"No, I understand," Kressa said quietly. She reached for the bottle on the small table between herself and Jonathan. She refilled her glass with the amber-pink Arecian wine, and then raised the bottle toward her companion. He shook his head and held up a glass that was still half full. She set the bottle aside.

She had met Jonathan for a late dinner on board Stingray One. After the meal, he invited her to his quarters to continue their discussion of the Confederacy's plans over a bottle of wine. Eventually, Jonathan revealed the truth about Scott Warren, including the fact that he'd gone straight into Cint-Istep following his apparently serendipitous encounter with the feuding captain and general.

"I'm not really surprised," she said, and took another sip of wine. "I'd love to take the bastard down right now, but I can wait." She met his eyes across the table with a homicidal look that was only partially feigned. "He'll get his soon enough."

He gave her a weak smile, and took hold of her hand where it rested at the base of her glass. "You know it's not your fault."

She nodded. She'd suspected Warren was the leak ever since she and Halav first discussed the possibility. Since then, she'd accepted the fact that she was responsible for his presence on the base, but she'd also convinced herself that she'd done nothing wrong by offering refuge to a fellow Guard member.

"It's no one's fault." She squeezed Jonathan's hand and released it. "What happened, happened. There's nothing anyone can do about it." She rested both elbows on the table, her glass held loosely between steepled fingertips. She stared into the pale liquid for a moment, took another sip, and then looked into Jonathan's eyes. "What I am concerned about is the effect this supposed feud between you and Hal is going to have on morale."

Jonathan set his glass down and leaned back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head. "We're going to try to keep it low-key. The only person we have to keep convinced of it is Atkins, and neither Halav nor I have any reason to come in contact with him. As long as Terling and I stay up here, no one need suspect anything."

Kressa nodded, and then sat back, lips curling in a hint of a smile. It was nice to be aboard Stingray One again, to be with Jonathan. She'd missed having someone she could be so open with, someone who seemed to understand her like he did. It was pleasant just to relax with him close, her mind free of concerns. But it was difficult to keep those concerns at bay.

Seeming to sense the despondent mood she was slipping into, Jonathan stretched his arms far behind him, and then stood. She watched him as he circled behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He bent forward for a kiss, and then began kneading the tension from her neck.

"Worried?" he asked.

She nodded. "There are too many unknowns in all of this."

"We've got Aidan Terling on our side. That's the best way I know to combat those unknowns. He's studied Gaunis's tactics for years." His fingers continued to ease the nervous tension from her muscles. "He's put together several scenarios on the Terran attack, and we'll be able to narrow those down as we get more information about the Patrol's movements over the next few days. The only real unknown is how Gaunis will deliver his bombs. But as long as he gets them to us somehow…" His voice trailed off, and he shrugged. He slid a hand under Kressa's arm and exerted gentle pressure.

She stood in response to the silent request and turned to face him.

He drew her into his arms. "Relax, Kressa, it's all up to Gaunis now."

She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed quietly. "That's what I'm worried about."

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