It was Alb Tariil who chaired the Diet this day, and when the opening ritual was complete, he announced that the Kalif would speak with them. Chodrisei Biilathkamoro mounted the rostrum then, and as he scanned the House of Nobles, it seemed to him that mostly he could tell who liked and who strongly disliked his invasion plan by their expressions. Those who clearly opposed it outnumbered its supporters. The majority showed no strong feeling, however, and he told himself that with them lay approval or disapproval. With them and seven members of the College who, in a poll, had voiced either disapproval or serious misgivings.
"Members of the Diet," he said. "When I addressed you last week, I presented my desire, my intention, to launch an invasion of the distant region of space known as the Confederation of Worlds. I spoke only briefly, presenting my reasons in outline. Since then you've had time to study my more expansive written discussion.
"I assume that some of you have questions. This is the time to ask them."
Hands shot up. He pointed. "Lord Rothka."
Standing, the nobleman spoke in a tone of impatient annoyance. "You impose upon this body with both your spoken and written presentations. Whatever you call them, they amount to a proposal. If this continues, I shall move we call it that. And vote on it within a week, as required by the charter."
"Thank you for your comments, Lord Rothka. I won't waste the time of these estates by pointing out the numerous precedents for a Kalif preparing the Diet for a proposal as I have done here." He looked around, and hands again sprang up. "Elder Voojeeno."
A heavy-set pastor from Klestron arose, a tall man by standards of the empire. "Your Reverence," he said, "my question deals with the peasantry who would form the bulk of the invading troops. Their lives will be endangered in battle, against troops who have proven both skilled and fierce. When we have won the victory, what will we do with those peasant soldiers? Will we bring them home and return them to peasant life and poverty? Or reward them with the option of staying on the conquered worlds as freed men? A sort of rude gentry?"
He sat down then, and the Kalif replied. "That question has not been addressed. It is, of course, a matter separate from whether or not to conquer and convert the unbelievers. And it does not itself become an issue until the invasion budget has been approved.
"I appreciate your concern, though, rooted as it is in the problem of peasant conditions. A complex problem that involves not only morality and justice, but long tradition and feasibility—public acceptance, education, economics, and the public peace. You know my position on the welfare of the peasantry, and my record."
He paused and looked them over again. "Other questions? Lord Agros."
The leader of the House of Nobles stood up, a wry expression on his aristocratic face. "Your Reverence, you would have us invade an empire far larger than our own. What happens if they defeat us?"
"Exactly. What do we do if they defeat us? They know we exist now, and considering our intrusion, and the nature of our only encounter, they can hardly feel other than hostile toward us. Sooner or later, if we do not rule them, they will find and invade us. It seems almost certain. Personally I prefer that we invade them, and not the reverse. And I prefer to launch the invasion fleet as soon as it can properly be done, in the Year of The Prophet 4727 at the latest, as I described.
"In 4721, their imperial fleet was no larger than we could send there next month, and inferior in armament. They had no planetary fleets to supplement it. They had a relatively small imperial army, again with inferior armaments. And their planetary armies were smaller and supposedly inferior to their imperial army.
"They had seven times our number of worlds, but only perhaps two or three times our people, because of the control of births and population size, and the use of machines to accomplish many kinds of labor.
"But how long will they continue inferior in strength knowing that we exist? Our only contact with them was violent. Do you suppose their Diet has not approved the building of new shipyards? New armament factories? Do you suppose they have not authorized a reconnaisance to find out where we are? From so far away, and presumably with only a general notion of the direction we came from, it may take them a century to find us, of course, but find us they will, almost surely."
He paused long, looking them over.
"When Sultan Rashti sent out his expedition, for reasons which apply to every world, he redefined our destiny. Our alternative destinies. We can conquer now, or else be conquered a generation or a century hence by a Confederation powerfully armed and terribly dangerous.
"Had we known six years ago what we know now, it could have been a large and powerful fleet that left the empire, instead of Rashti's small flotilla. And we could easily have conquered. Each year we wait, the more difficult it will be.
"We can assume they have new shipyards built by now." He paused. "Unless of course their Diet lacks the will to act. And we can assume their fleet will be considerably larger, when ours arrives, than it was three years ago.
"It takes incentive and resources and time to develop great military power. They have the resources and we have given them the incentive. We must not give them the time.
"Fortunately, warships without force shields are very vulnerable, and the Confederation does not have force shields. Though having hyperspace generators, they have the potential, the science, to develop and build force shield generators. The possibility will occur to them sooner or later."
The Kalif scanned his audience with hard eyes. He'd shaken them. This was a consideration he hadn't brought up before.
"Sooner or later we will have to face up to a war with them. The plan I've described to you will put our fleet upon them, and an army, while they are still vulnerable—if this chamber has the perspective and will to finance it.
"The opportunity to bring the pagans to Kargh, and the availability of underpopulated worlds—these are reasons enough to invade. But given the distances and expense, they are not utterly compelling; one might argue against them in good conscience. On the other hand, the matter of our security and the future of Karghanik are beyond debate."
His opposition was taken unprepared by this, but struck back as best they could. They questioned his certainty that the Confederation had no force shields, and his answer was not totally reassuring. They argued that the necessary taxes would strain an already unhealthy economy, and that the excitement coincident to such a project would cause further civil disturbances.
The possibility of invasion from the non-human empire was also brought up. The Kalif stood again to reply.
"If," he said, "the non-humans are so formidable and so inclined, why haven't they attacked us already? It was more than five years ago that they first clashed with the Klestronu flotilla, less than a year's distance from Klestron.
"In fact we have no strong reason to believe that a non-human empire exists in the sector where the non-human ship was encountered. The Klestronu flotilla encountered a single ship. Later it encountered a single ship. Still later it found itself followed by—a single ship. The evidence strongly suggests that all three encounters were with the same ship."
At this, Rothka surged to his feet and shouted a retort without asking recognition: "You throw possibilities at us in lieu of reasons! 'Why haven't they?' you ask, as if that proved anything! 'No strong reason to believe!' 'Strongly suggests!' What sort of evidence is that? What kind of fools do you take us for? What song will you sing when a warfleet loaded with monsters arrives here with death and enslavement on its mind? While our own fleet is three years distant, with no way even to let them know!"
Alb Tariil's gavel was rapping before Rothka had gotten his first sentence out, and before he'd finished, some of the noble delegates were shouting "out of order." But his trumpet voice blared through them, and when he'd lapsed into grimly satisfied silence, the others still shouted till the gavel silenced them.
The Kalif stood gazing at Rothka from the rostrum, seemingly as calm as if a routine question had been moderately put. After the uproar had stilled, and the gavel, he spoke. " 'When a warfleet loaded with monsters arrives here,' you say. I hadn't realized you were clairvoyant, Lord Rothka. You're fortunate that witches aren't flayed and drowned in brine any longer.
"As far as that's concerned, you're fortunate that your present Kalif doesn't deal with attacks the way his predecessor did—the predecessor you sided with so often.
"But forgive my sarcasm. I'm afraid I was influenced by your own ill manners. As for the facts I pointed out, which you attempted to twist—I have not pretended that they constitute proof. But they remain. The Klestronu flotilla encountered a single ship on three occasions. The second time they assumed it was a second ship, a different ship. If it was, it was identical in every respect recorded on the flagship's DAAS, although first in battle and then in flight, their commodore never thought to look. The third time they realized it was the same ship as the second, and suspected it might be the same as the first.
"A vast and hostile non-human empire? Possibly. Also possibly, the non-humans' ship had detected them while both were in hyperspace, and emerged to communicate with them. Commodore Tarimenloku himself admitted that after firing without warning on the alien, it occurred to him their electronic intrusion into his DAAS's data bank might have been intended to produce a translation program.
"And finally, what became of that alien ship? Commodore Tarimenloku launched a distortion bomb in the hyperspace direction of their pursuer. He did not determine whether their pursuer was destroyed, and his DAAS lacked the information needed to evaluate the probability. But SUMBAA has estimated—not proved, but estimated—the probability at eighty-one percent, with a six percent error of estimate.
"Let's assume for a moment that there is a non-human empire. And let's assume further than the Klestronu encroached on its space. The odds are strong that that hypothetical empire doesn't know it was encroached upon. For if the alien ship had taken the necessary few minutes to prepare and send a message pod to wherever it came from, it could hardly have succeeded in tracking the Klestronu."
The Kalif paused again, long enough to encourage a hand to wave, or a voice to challenge. None did.
"Again assume, for the sake of argument, that the Klestronu violated the space of a non-human empire. An empire a hyperspace year away. If their ship informed them, and if they constitute a vast and powerful empire, why haven't they come to challenge us? They've had five years!"
His eyes shifted to Lord Rothka, whose face was stone hard now. "I cannot prove that a non-human fleet will not emerge from hyperspace in this system three years from now. Or tomorrow. Any more than I can prove that Kargh will not strike you with lightning three years from now. Or tomorrow.
"But the odds that the Confederation will someday find and attack us, if we do not move first, are much greater. And it is that probability that I wish to forestall."
He exhaled gustily and looked around. "Well. Are there more questions? If there are, I hope you don't throw them at me like poison darts."
At the weak humor, laughter rippled thinly through the Diet, a release of tension. Then, for the next half hour, the Kalif answered questions dealing mostly with feasibility—mainly logistics and cost predictions. He also answered complaints about the suggested military contributions to come from the various planets. His figures on logistics and costs came from SUMBAA, he said, and SUMBAA had indicated they were feasible. As it had the military contributions tentatively assigned the separate sultanates. But he'd be glad to discuss either of these matters before requesting an appropriation, and to adjust them if they threatened an unfair hardship.
Then he excused himself and left. Jilsomo would show him the video record of anything in the meeting that he needed to see and hear.
Tain had become considerably more outgoing and animated since their wedding—a development that pleased her husband very much. But this evening at supper, she ate slowly, silently, and little. At first he didn't intrude, respecting her privacy. At length, though, he questioned her.
"You're quiet. Is anything wrong?"
After a moment she answered. "Someone left something for me today. A video cube. With a note telling me to play it."
"Oh? And what was it?"
"It was of you. You were giving a speech to the people. About invading the Confederation."
He looked to his cup, and took an unwanted sip of tea, avoiding her eyes for the moment. "What did you think of it?"
"It hurt. It hurt to hear that my husband wants to make war on my home world. Even if I don't remember it, the memories are there. Of the people, my family, friends... Memories I can't see, but that sometimes I can feel."
"Ah. And how do they feel to you, those memories? Are they happy, do you think?"
"It seems to me they are. More happy than otherwise."
"Do you feel that the government of the Confederation is a good government? Kind? Just? Or do those hidden memories reflect a good home, a loving family, dear friends?"
Her answer was soft, monotone. "If it does—During your invasion, what will happen to that family, that home, those friends?"
The question stabbed him—somehow he'd never thought of it! How had he not? he wondered. But it showed only as a brief flicker in his eyes. "And what kind of government do they live under?" he asked quietly, then answered his own question, or seemed to. "By the evidence, one that can put a uniform on a young woman, a girl, a beautiful girl with her life before her, and send her to war, perhaps to be killed."
She picked idly at a salad leaf, not answering.
He got up. "Will you walk in the garden with me? Or sit by me in the roof garden?"
Tain got up, too. "The roof," she said. "Where I can see more stars."
He nodded and they went up together in their private lift tube. It was approaching full night. There was no sign of the moon. Stars vaulted upward from the east, past the zenith and down toward the silver of a fading sunset. Husband and wife sat down side by side, shoulders almost touching, and when his hand found hers, she did not withdraw it. After awhile he spoke again.
"What are you thinking? If you tell me, I will not argue with you."
"Why must you invade my homeworld? Why not send a diplomatic mission?"
He absorbed the question before answering, attention inward, fingers massaging the silver sextant on his chest as if to gain wisdom from it. When at last he spoke, it was slowly, choosing his words. "First there are matters of principle," he said, "which in this case tend more to set limits than to dictate actions. A state of war exists between the Confederation and Klestron. I cannot send a peaceful embassy to an entity at war with an imperial world. The Diet and the sultanates wouldn't stand for it."
Her lips parted as if to object, but he went on. "Not even when the war was brought on by Klestron's own military; political principle is not always just or logical.
"Beyond that, there is military tradition that defeat in battle must be avenged if possible. In recent millenia it's lost much of its force; few would argue now that we need to fight so large and distant an adversary to save Klestron's face. I doubt that even Sultan Rashti would urge it for no more reason than that. But it's enough to prohibit sending a peaceful embassy. If anything is sent, it must be military, not diplomatic.
"Of course, none of that requires that I send anything, and I must tell you that many would prefer I don't. There are other reasons favoring an invasion over doing nothing." He proceeded then to repeat the arguments he'd given the Diet.
"And were it possible to send an embassy," he went on, "we wouldn't know for five years what the results were. Meanwhile, the Confederation could continue to arm; to send an embassy would be very dangerous for us." He shrugged.
"I'm the Kalif," he finished. "I can't sit back and say to someone else, I cannot decide, I cannot act, I will not accept the responsibility."
He pressed Tain's hand. "That's my answer to you. I realize it may well seem inadequate; no doubt it would be to me, if our places were reversed. That's why I said nothing to you earlier."
Her reply was calm and cool. "You have answered my question, but you haven't eased my distress. Now that I see your reasons more fully, I've lost the bitterness I felt, but it will be difficult to feel toward you as I did before. It will take time. I do still love you, but there is a wound now."
She paused, but he kept silent, knowing she had more to say. After a long and meditative minute she went on. "On the other hand, I'm thinking how remarkable it is that I'm here. In the empire. And that you found me and wanted me, and that you love me. If you still do. You the Kalif, and I a prisoner of war.
"It seems to me that someone I've known, sometime, somewhere, would tell me there was a reason for that. Whether the will of Kargh, or something else. A reason and a purpose."
She fell silent then, and when, after a minute, she'd said nothing more, he squeezed her hand slightly. "I do love you," he said. "Very much. I always will."
After another moment she spoke again. "In your speech, you mentioned those who wished to block you. I can only hope they succeed. Not for lack of loving you, but for love of what I once knew as home." She peered at him in the darkness. "How does that seem to you?" she asked. "Treasonous?"
"No. No, I cannot fault you for feeling that way. As for me, I love this empire which Kargh has given me to rule, and it seems to me that what I propose to do needs to be done. That's a feeling I've rationalized before the College and the Diet, and the reasons I gave them are true. But the feeling goes deeper than that, as if Kargh had ordered it."
It struck him then that neither to the public nor the Diet had he invoked Kargh as his inspiration. He wondered why; Kargh was the force behind the throne. He'd make a point of it the next time he spoke.
"Well then," she said, "if the Diet doesn't dissuade you, I suppose I won't be able to. At most I could destroy your feeling for me. So I shall pray to Kargh to change your mind. And if he doesn't, then I shall pray to my husband to be merciful and just to my people as far as war allows. Perhaps that's why I'm here; perhaps it's Kargh's will that I lighten the heel of war upon them."
While they'd talked, the last ghost of sunset had disappeared; it happened quickly, so near the equator. And on Varatos—on any world in the empire—brightly lit signs, displays of ornamental lights, banks of floodlights that made buildings glow in the dark, none of these had been seen since the beginnings of the kalifate. For The Prophet, that long-time mariner, had said that the night sky was the glory of Kargh, his greatest work of art. Thus, although there were streetlights and headlights and lights in windows, many stars still were visible.
On the open roof, they lent a sense of solitude, and it occurred to Coso that if Tain was isolated here on Varatos, in a very real way so was he. As Kalif, he could hardly be close to people, even Jilsomo. Even Yab, Sergeant Yalabiin, with whom he drilled almost daily with the saber. There might be moments of closeness, as when Thoga had bared his soul, but those were brief when they happened at all.
When they'd married, he and this involuntary exile from her people, they'd formed a bond strengthened by their mutual isolation, a bond stronger than their vows.
Behind them the nearly full moon was rising, glinting on the windows of taller buildings. He raised Tain's hand and kissed it, and when she did not resist, he turned in his chair, leaned toward her and kissed her lips. She had half turned to face him, and kissed him back, but the kiss was cool, and he let be.
As they rode the lift tube back down, her hand was still in his, and he could almost wish with her that his opponents would defeat him. But he would not back away, of that he felt certain. For truly it seemed to him that the future of the empire and its people was at stake.