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"Eleventh, Thebes shall not be required to pay indemnities or reparations to any star nation. However"—Antonov's voice hardened—"the government of Thebes shall be required to acknowledge, formally and for the record, that the attack by its armed forces on the Tenth Destroyer Squadron, Khanate of Orion Space Navy, was made without provocation under the guise of an offer to parley. And the government of Thebes shall further acknowledge that this attack was made on the express orders of the then Prophet."
Ivan Antonov leaned forward and spoke very quietly.
"Twelfth, Theban perso
He met the Prophet's eyes coldly.
"I do not care why this war was launched, Prophet, but there will be no question, now or ever, of who fired the first shot and under what circumstances, nor will we permit criminals to escape punishment. The Federation will return its Theban prisoners of war as rapidly as possible, but individuals who, while in occupation of Terran-populated worlds, committed acts which constitute criminal offenses under the laws of those worlds, will be tried and, if convicted, sentenced by Terran courts. We did not attack you. We have suffered far higher civilian casualties than you. Our legal system will deal with those who have committed atrocities against our people."
He held the Theban's gaze unwaveringly, his face carved from granite, and it was the Prophet's eyes which wavered.
"The terms I have just enunciated are those of the Terran Federation. They are not negotiable. You have one standard week to accept or reject them. If you choose not to accept them by the end of that time, my forces will move against Thebes in whatever strength I deem appropriate."
He rose, his staff standing behind him, and his voice was frozen helium.
"This meeting is adjourned."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Khimhok za'Fanak
This time Francis Mulrooney felt no surprise when the kholokhanzir's herald led him into the guarded apartment, yet tension more than compensated for its absence. The aged Orion on the dais seemed not even to have moved in the thirty-two standard months since their last meeting, and his bright eyes watched the Terran ambassador's approach.
Mulrooney stopped and bowed, then straightened. Liharnow'-hirtalkin's hand rose. It held the formal parchment document, signed by the Prophet of Holy Terra and sealed with the sigil of his faith.
"I have received your message and your document, Ambassador," the Khan'a'khanaaeee said. "Your Admiral Aantaahnaav is to be commended upon his understanding of the Zheeerlikou'valkha
"Neither the Zheeerlikou'valkha
Despite decades of diplomatic experience, Mulrooney exhaled a tremendous sigh of relief and bent his head with profound gratitude.
"In the name of my people, I thank you, Hia'khan," he said softly.
"Your thanks are welcomed, but they are not necessary," the khan replied just as softly. "The Zheeerlikou'valkha
Mulrooney bowed once more, touching his fist to his chest in silence, and the Khan rose with fragile, aged grace. The Terran's eyes widened as the Khan'a'khanaaeee stepped down from his dais and performed an unthinkable act. He extended his hand and touched an alien ambassador.
"It is time to present this shirnowkashaik to my fangs," Liharnow said, leaning upon the human's arm for support, "and I would have you present when they receive it." He smiled a wry, fang-hidden smile as the Terran moved with exquisite care, supporting his weight as if it were the most important task in the Galaxy. "For today, you shall be Fraaanciiis'muuulroooneeee, a hirikrinzi of the Zheeerlikou'valkha
All the other farewells were over—but for one—and for now Antonov and Kthaara had the small lounge in Old Terra's Orbit Port Nineteen to themselves. They stood side by side, human and Orion silhouetted against the transparent bulkhead as they gazed at the breathtaking blue curve of the world they had left only hours before.
Kthaara had accompanied Antonov back to the home world that was, in part, now his. He had wanted to see it... and he had stoically endured the ceremonies in which humanity loaded him down with decorations and promoted him to captain, a rank he would now hold for life. And now he awaited the liner that would take him on the long voyage back to Valkha'zeeranda to become again a small claw of the Khan and resume the life he would never again see through quite the same eyes.
He finally broke the companionable silence. "Well," he said mischievously, "has the new Sky Marshal settled into his duties?"
Antonov snorted explosively. "They couldn't give me more rank," he rumbled, "so they created a new rank. And they've decided they need a clearly defined military commander in chief... especially now that they won't have Howard Anderson to tickle their tummies and wipe their butts for them! Of course," he smiled thinly, "they don't really believe they'll ever need the position—or the military—again. Every war is always the last war!" His smile grew even thi
"There is much the Zheeerlikou'valkha