"If this mission was any indication of your abilities, Colonel, then I must say that I wonder how you earned such a good reputation."

Blair and Ralgha stood at rigid attention in front of the captain's desk, listening to Eisen's angry appraisal of their patrol mission. Victory's captain was plainly agitated, unable to sit still. He prowled the confines of the ready room like a caged beast, pausing from time to time to drive a point home to the two pilots. Neither of them had ventured a response to Eisen, and Blair for one agreed with most of what he had to say. The mission had been mishandled from start to finish, and as senior officer Blair bore the full blame for everything that had gone wrong.

Eisen leaned heavily on his desk. "I expected better of both of you," he said, more quietly this time. "Especially you, Colonel. But maybe I'm just expecting too damned much. Maybe the Confed has just pulled off too many miracles in the past, and the miracles are starting to run out now." He looked up. "Well? Do either of you have anything to say?"

"I screwed up, sir," Blair said softly. "Underestimated the Kilrathi and let the situation get out of hand instead of keeping a grip on . . . things." He looked at Hobbes. "I allowed myself to get separated from my wingman, and soaked up unacceptable damage in the process. That made it impossible to press the fight when we were able to hook up again, even though the enemy seemed unwilling to stand and fight."

"And you, Ralgha?" Eisen asked. "Anything to add?"

The Kilrathi renegade shook his head. "No, Captain, save that the Colonel fought with skill and honor."

"Honor doesn't matter to me nearly as much as winning," Eisen commented, straightening up slowly, "but at least you both got back in one piece." He mustered a faint smile. "The Confederation needs every pilot it can muster, even a couple of senile old screw-ups like you."

"Next time out, sir, I guarantee things will be different, Blair told him. "You can count on it."

"I'll hold you to it," the captain said. "All right, lets move on. I want a heavier patrol dispatched as soon as possible. Draw up a flight plan for my approval. I suggest a minimum of four fighters this time, and maybe a backstop of four more in case the first team runs into trouble. We'll smoke the bastards out one way or another.

"I'll get on it, sir," Blair said. "Hobbes and I will lead em . . .

Eisen shook his head. "You know the regs. Except on magnum ops, you stick to the flight rotation schedule. You're the wing commander, Colonel, and you can't start trying to jump on board every op. That will burn you out, and that's the last thing we need right now."

Reluctantly, Blair nodded in acceptance. "As you wish, Captain," he said slowly

"All right, then. You're both dismissed."

Outside the ready room, Ralgha reached out and halted Blair with one massive paw. "I am very sorry, my friend," he said gravely. "I let you down out there today. And yet you were willing to accept the blame from Captain Eisen that should have been directed at me."

Blair shook his head. "Sure as hell wasn't all your fault," he told the Kilrathi. "I should have been ready for the bastards."

"Nevertheless, I failed you. That insolent peasant and his challenge . . . I should never have allowed myself to be drawn into fighting him, leaving you to face the others alone." Ralgha paused. "Did it seem to you, my friend, that the enemy behavior was out of character?"

"How so?" Blair asked. He, too, had wondered about the way the trap unfolded, but he was especially interested in whatever observations Hobbes might share. After all, Ralgha nar Hhallas was the closest thing to a genuine expert on Kilrathi psychology aboard the Victory.

"In the beginning, it seemed to me they were intending to fly a traditional attack plan. There was no good reason to launch that first attack if their aim was to draw us into an ambush. It was only after I was engaged that the others broke off and attempted to draw you into their trap. Could it be that the Empire has a particular interest in you?"

"In me? How —"

"You can be assured that the Empire has sources of information within the Confederation, agents who could have identified your new assignment to this ship. Spies are remarkably easy to plant, particularly when the Empire has many human slaves to recruit."

"You really think a human would spy for the Kilrathi?" Blair asked. "And that the Empire would rely on a human slave to work in the Imperial interest out of reach of the nerve lash?"

"There are always a few who betray willingly, my friend. Their honor is less strong than their ambition or greed. And Imperial Intelligence does have techniques for guaranteeing cooperation from even the unwilling: personality overlays, deep conditioning . . . many things. There are surely spies reporting to Kilrah. And with your record and reputation, it is possible that the Emperor or his grandson has singled you out as a human leader to be terminated. War is far more personal with my people than with yours, and it would be a great triumph to eliminate a wing commander of your stature in battle."

"So you think the ambush was planned? That would mean there is an agent aboard this ship . . ."

"Not necessarily," Ralgha said slowly. "We know the Empire can monitor some of our ship-to-ship transmissions. I used your rank several times during radio messages, and if that information was joined with knowledge of your assignment to the Victory and of Confed troop movements . . . . I merely feel you should consider the possibility. The trap may well have been prepared in hopes of your arrival, but it was not set in motion until the battle had already begun."

Blair shrugged. "Maybe you're right. But on the other hand, if I had been in command of that Kilrathi flight, I would have done my best to divide and conquer, just the way they did; no matter who blundered into the trap." He paused. "Fact is, it looked more to me like they were damned interested in you."

"In me? It was only that first kilra'hra who dared challenge me."

"That's my point," Blair said. "He charged in looking for hairless apes, and it was only when you identified yourself that all hell started breaking loose. And when you finished the first guy off and hooked back up with me, the other guys got pretty shy all of a sudden."

"Are you coming to doubt me, my friend?" Ralgha asked.

"You know better than that. I'm just curious, that's all." Blair studied his friend's alien features. "Maybe it's you they are afraid of. Your reputation has to be at least as big as mine, after all these years. Maybe bigger where the Empire's concerned. A renegade noble turned Confed fighter pilot . . . I could see a few Kilrathi getting nervous if they ran into you during a fight."

The Kilrathi gave a rumbling chuckle. "That, my friend, sounds unlikely. I am a disgrace among my people. I am nothing. It is only to a good friend like you that my poor life means anything at all." Ralgha looked away for a moment, a surprisingly human mannerism. "Although I must say, it certainly felt good to be out there again. My gratitude for your trust and support of me is endless."

"Forget it, buddy," Blair told him. "You're back where you belong now."

The victory party was in full swing when the lift deposited Blair outside the recreation hall set aside for use by the flight wing. He paused in the corridor, reluctant to go inside. After all, they were celebrating a successful op that had made good the mistakes he and Hobbes made the first time out, and Blair didn't much care to be reminded of that fact tonight. But as wing commander, he had a duty to his outfit, and part of that duty was to show his support for them in success and failure alike, even when it left a bitter taste in his mouth.