VI

Barth Nevesh was nearly seven feet tall, and his cat-shaped ears stuck

up another four inches above his head. Even among the people of Kel he

was a big man, but to the representatives of the other humanoid worlds

of the Federation, he seemed a giant. The thick furs he wore against

the heavy chill of the room added to his apparent size, and the horns

growing from his shoulders lifted his robes until he seemed to have no

neck.

Now he stood up, driving his heavy fist down against the big wooden

table. "The question is, do we have the answer or not?" he roared. "You

say we do. Logic says we do. Then let's act on it!"

The elfin figure of Lemillulot straightened up at the other end of the

table. "Not so fast, commander. Nobody questions the power of your

fleet. Nobody doubts that we have the only possible answer to the

aliens that Earth is helping to take over our universe--strength

through unity. But is it as good as it can be?"

"How better?" Barth roared again. "Every world in this alien pocket has

been building its strength since the Earthmen's ships first reached

here and showed us space travel was possible. We've seen the stinking

aliens get the same ships. But now we've got something they can't

resist--a Federation, in spite of all Earth could do to stop us. If all

our fleets strike at once, no alien world can resist--and we can stop

merely holding them back. Wipe them out, one by one, I say! The only

good alien is a dead alien!"

There was a lot of talk--more than Barth usually heard or contributed

in a month. Lemillulot was the focus of most of it. The little man

would never be satisfied. He wanted all the humanoid worlds organized,

and by now it was plain that Earth's influence would be too strong

outside of their own section.

Their accomplishments were already enough. United as they were, the

Federation was clearly invincible. Their fleets were at full size and

the crews were thoroughly trained. No other time would be better.

There had already been a stir of ship-building on the alien worlds,

since the first word of the Federation had somehow leaked out. The

Federation position was as good as it would ever be--and with eleven

fleets working together, nothing better was needed.

"Knock them down with the long shells, haze them to base with

interceptors, and then rip their worlds with planet bombs," Barth

repeated his plans. "We can do it in six hours for a planet--we can

start at the strongest, Neflis, and work down through the weakest, to

make up for our losses. And if the Earth forces start moving in to

rebuild them--well, I've been thinking the Federation could use a

little more wealth and power!"

"Humanoids don't attack humanoids," Lemillulot protested.

The snarling, dog face of Sra from Chumkt opened in a grin, and his sly

voice held a hint of a chuckle. "Or so Earth keeps preaching. But

Earthmen aren't humanoids. They're humans!"

He laughed softly at his own wit. There were rumbles of uncertainty,

but Barth saw that the seed had taken root. If they kept working

together, he and Sra could force it to ripen soon enough.

"That can wait," Barth decided. "The question is, do we attack Neflis,

and when? I say now!"

* * * * *

It took an hour more for the decision. But there would be only one

answer, and the final vote was unanimous. The fleets would take off

from their home worlds and rendezvous near the barren sun; from there,

they would proceed in a group, under the control of Barth, toward the

alien world of Neflis.

The commander checked his chronometer as the delegates went to send

their coded reports to their home worlds. He had the longest distance

to lead his fleet, and there was no time for delay.

Outside, the harsh snow crackled under his feet, and a layer of storm

clouds cut off the wan heat of Kel's sun. He drew in a deep breath,

watching the swirl of white as he exhaled. It was a good world--a world

to build men. It was the world from which a leader should come.

The fleet would be all his within a day. And for a time, it would be

busy at the work of wiping out the nearby aliens. After that--well,

there were other aliens further out toward the last frontiers of

exploration. With care, the fleet could be kept busy for years.

Barth was remembering his histories, and the armies that had been swept

together. In a few years, fighting men began to think of themselves as

a people apart, and loyalty to their birthplace gave way to loyalty to

their leader. Five years should be enough. Then there could be more

than a Federation; there could be the empire among the worlds that had

been his lifelong dream.

But first, there was Earth. He snorted to himself as he reached the

ships of his fleet. Missionaries! Spreading their soft fear through the

universe. In five years, his fleet should be ready for ten times the

power of any single planet--including Earth.

Sra would be the only problem in his way. But that could be met later.

For the moment, the man from Chumkt was useful.

Barth strode up the ramp of his flagship, shouting out to his men as he

went. There was no need of signals. They had been primed and waiting

for days, ready to follow him up.

He dropped to the control seat, staring at the little lights that would

tell him of their progress. "Up ship!" he shouted, and from the metal

halls and caverns of the ship other voices echoed his cry.

The _Wind Dragon_ leaped upwards sharply. Behind, as the red lights

showed, four hundred others charged into the sky and the open space

beyond. Barth sat at the great screen, watching as they drew on

steadily toward the rendezvous, mulling over his plans.

They were three hours out from Kel when he turned the control over to

his lieutenant and went below, where his table was laden with the

smoking cheer of good green meat and ale. With a sigh of contentment,

he threw back his outer robe and prepared to forget everything until he

had dined.

He was humming hoarsely to himself as he cut a piece of the meat and

stuck it on his left shoulder horn, within reach of his teeth. Maybe a

little of the baked fish would blend well--

The emergency drum blasted through the ship as he lifted the knife.

Swearing and tearing at the flesh near his mouth, he leaped up and

forward toward the control room. He heard voices shouting, something

about a fleet. Then he was at the screens where he could see for

himself.

Five million miles ahead, another fleet was assembled, where none

should be from any of the Federation worlds! His eyes swept sideways

across the screen, estimating the number. It was impossible. There

weren't a quarter of that number in the fleet of any world, humanoid or

alien!

Barth flipped on the microresolver, twisting the wheel that sent it

racing across the path of the fleet ahead. His eyes confirmed what his

mind had already recognized.

The aliens had their own federation. There were ships of every type

there, grouped in units. Thirteen alien worlds were combined against

the Outer Federation.

For a breath he hesitated, ready to turn back and defend Kel while

there was time. But it would never work. One fleet would never be

enough to defend the planet against the combined aliens.

"Cluster!" he barked into the communicator. "Out rams and up speed.

Prepare for breakthrough!"

If they could hit the aliens at full drive and cut through the weaker

center, they could still rendezvous with the other fleets. The combined

strength might be enough. And the gods help Kel if the aliens refused

to follow him!

Earth, he thought; Earth again, coddling and protecting aliens, forming

them into a conspiracy against the humanoid worlds. If Kel or any part

of the Federation survived, that debt would be paid!