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

they had been captured, their ship torn apart and looted of information, thus revealing much about who
this new neighbor was. Within half a year after that, contacts started all along the sectors bordering
towards this Confederation, and something of an unofficial war was even now under way.

There seemed to be a tacit agreement, established through one official communique from the Emperor,
barring all humans from crossing into sectors claimed by the Empire and ships of neither side entered
these realms, at least not officially.

But it was the world they had taken with the colonists that troubled Vakka. Normally he would have
killed them out of hand, but there was something different about these aliens, and curiosity compelled him
to keep them alive. From them he had learned much, not in the manner of the Emperor's official
"questioners," who had tortured human captives for information, but rather by simply talking. He found
that in many ways he liked these aliens, but even more, he feared them; a fact he could never admit
before this gathering.

"We have learned this, at least," Vakka finally replied. "If they have an advantage it is in their depth, their
web of alliances with half a dozen races, the sheer number of worlds they have colonized. Such a depth
of organization could be of infinite help if the challenge from within the core is to one day be met. We
lack that depth. We annihilate or enslave everyone on the worlds we take."

"So?" the Crown Prince replied, his tone obviously conveying total confusion over the intent of Vakka's
statement.

"Yes, we have a fleet, the best in the galaxy, but we don't have the infrastructure, the web of commerce.
We conquer, destroy, populate a new world like a fiefdom, placing a few tens of thousands of our own
blood where billions once existed. Those whom we suffer to live, labor in our factories as slaves, not
allies. Then we expand yet again. We are like a hollow shell, the Confederation is a solid mass."

"That is why we must attack now," the Crown Prince snarled. "We are the superior. One fierce blow will
smash that solid mass, a blow from which they will never recover. Even if, as in your worst projections as
presented earlier, they somehow survive the first blow, they will be so weakened that we shall hold what
we have taken, then finally push the blade into their heart."

"Better to take it and use it in our own way," the Crown Prince cried, turning to face the other clan
leaders. "We can see this truth. If our places were reversed, we would laugh at such an alliance, and
simply use the Confederation as a buffer to absorb the first blow of the enemy, as they would do to us.
And besides, the point is meaningless. It will be at least eight times eight years before the darkness even
begins to approach our outer borders."

Vakka looked about the room for support and saw only blank stares. He knew those clan leaders
whose realms bordered in towards the galactic core might see his side, but the promise of war,
immediate war, rather than long boring years of preparation for a threat that might never actually come,
superseded all other concerns.

"The war will train a new generation such as my son," the Crown Prince pressed. "For all our sons this
fight will be their blooding and their chance to rise in honor and gain glory for their clan names. And this
war, I predict that it will be finished before it has even started. After the first hammer blows, we will
pluck the flesh off the bones of the Confederation at our leisure."

"As for the rumor that they are preparing to declare war upon usтАФ" and he chuckled softly, "тАФlet them.