"William R. Forstchen - Wing Commander 06 - Action Stations" - читать интересную книгу автора (Forstchen William R)

Vakka came to his feet and with a ceremonial flourish unsheathed his dagger, made from the tooth of a
nagga. Bowing low, he laid it on the floor, hilt pointed towards the dais and screen behind which the
Emperor sat, a clear indication of submission even as he dared to speak against the Imperial will.

"My Emperor, I follow thy call for the hunt. Point out the prey to us and we shall spring upon it, but I
beg of thee the right to point to other herds which thou might not have gazed upon."

Vakka delivered his opening in the ceremonial dialect of the court, speaking the words with a sharp,
clear enunciation, which was an indicator of his good breeding. Some might have taken his tone as a
subtle insult against the Emperor himself, whose lineage was not as ancient.

The Emperor remained silent and Vakka waited, still bowed low.

"Go on then, but the hour is already late," the reply came at last.

"My Emperor, my brothers of the other clans, I urge you to consider one point yet again. Now is not the
time to wage war upon the Confederation."

"Vakka, we have gone through this for three days," came the bored reply of the Crown Prince, who sat
to the right of the dais. "Make an end to this protest."

Vakka coolly surveyed Gilkarg, the only son of the Emperor. As the Crown Prince it would be he who
led the fleet into action, and all knew that he was the force, more than the Emperor, who urged war. The
Emperor had won his glory in the campaign against the Varni, now the son wanted an even greater glory.

"Could there be the scent of fear in this room?"

The startling challenge came from behind Gilkarg, and there was an indrawing of breath from many in the
assembly as Prince Ratha, the eldest son of the Crown Prince stood up, talons extended.

The Crown Prince extended his hand in a gesture of restraint, but Vakka could see that there was
approval for his hot-tempered son's words.

"The dagger is upon the floor, Ratha, challenge can not be made."

Ratha, a flicker of a smile creasing his features so that his fangs were revealed, nodded and sat back
down. An amused chortle and the whispered comment, "You would have killed him," came from Prince
Thrakhath, the younger cub sibling of Ratha.

Vakka bristled slightly when the Crown Prince, in a display of crass disregard for decorum, did not
discipline the cub. He looked around the room, in anticipation of other challenges, but none were offered.

"The Confederation must be dealt with," Vakka began, as if offering agreement, "but is this the proper
time? Since gaining spaceflight we have expanded, taking all in our path, for this is proper. Yet
remember, as we expand, it is like a balloon stretching outward. The surface grows larger and yet larger,
our borders forever becoming wider. Now we find this Confederation on our flank, but there are other
borders as well."
"Va ka garga ka naru ha garga." The Crown Prince intoned, matching Gilkarg's mastery of the
ceremonial dialect of court, "Those not of the blood must have their blood spilt."