They brought him into the open expanse of the audience chamber, shoving him forward until he stood before the raised dais that dominated one end. A stocky, massive Kilrathi figure stood beside the throne, regarding him with dark, hooded eyes that gave away nothing.
He was vaguely aware of other Kilrathi warriors in the hall, hidden in the shadows, hissing their hatred, but his full attention was focused on this one dominating figure
"The Heart of the Tiger," the Kilrathi said in heavily-accented English, sounding like a judge about to deliver a verdict. "I am Melek. Prince Thrakhath was my master."
Blair remained silent, staring into those dark pools that were Melek's eyes.
"In my bones, I wish to kill you . . ." Melek let the words hang in the chamber. From the shadows, there was muttered agreement, sibilant curses.
"Do it, then," Blair said. "Get it over with. It won't bring back your world."
"And what is the Race without the Homeworld?" Melek asked. "Nothing . . . dust in the wind." He paused. "You have defeated us, Heart of the Tiger. Brought down the Empire with one blow. Thrakhath was a fool to discount what you Terrans could achieve, but he and his accursed grandfather have both paid the price for that folly."
Blair squinted up at him, a faint hope stirring within. He hardly dared fan it for fear it would be false.
"But you Terrans have committed your own folly, this day," Melek went on. "For now the Empire will fall . . . and the enemies who harassed our outer marches will now have nothing to stand between them and your Confederation. They have a power that even Thrakhath was wary of: Do you Terrans, who barely held against us, have the strength to face them when they come?"
Blair found his voice again. "If we're attacked, we'll fight back," he said. "As we did with you."
Melek stepped down from the dais, his face only inches from Blair's. "With the Homeworld gone and the Emperor dead, the rest of the Empire will fall apart. There will be civil war, factions fighting for power, subject races throwing off our rule. Chaos. And enemies waiting to exploit our weakness . . ." He lowered his voice, until Blair had to strain to hear the words. "Perhaps the only hope for either of our races is to face the future together. The Kilrathi Race has become too corrupt, slaves to blood lust and the evils brought by too much power. We have paid a heavy price . . ."
He stepped back and raised his voice again. "Killing the Heart of the Tiger, the one warrior great enough to humble the Empire, will bring me no honor." Melek looked at Blair for a long moment, as if struggling for the will to go on. "Your claws are at our throats. Would your people accept our . . . surrender? The Race cannot be allowed to die, even it means placing our fate in the hands of our enemies."
Blair nodded slowly. "Peace is what we both need now. If you can end this war, I think you'll find we won't demand more than you're willing to give." He paused. "And maybe one day, when the War is over and the hate is past, you and I will be able to meet . . . as friends."
"Friends . . ." Melek seemed to ponder the idea. "Perhaps it is possible. Will you carry our offer to your superiors? To help us put an end to the fighting?"
Blair nodded, the effort almost more than he could manage. As the fear and the adrenaline both ebbed away, he could feel the fatigue sapping his strength. "I'll do it," he said. "We'll do it . . ."
Then blackness took him. He never felt himself hit the smooth, unyielding deck below him.
EPILOGUE
"Our top story is the historic news from the Torgo System, where delegates from the Kilrathi Empire signed a peace treaty to put an end to the war . . ."
On the newspad monitor screen, the view showed the interior of the huge auditorium at Sector HQ. There was a large audience, mostly uniformed members of the Confed Armed Forces, gathered around a raised stage beneath the transparent dome. The ceremony took place at night, and a thousand stars blazed brightly above the delegates.
Blair noted Paladin prominently seated among the Terran representatives, and near him was Admiral Tolwyn. The court of inquiry found the admiral blameless in the loss of the Behemoth, and he had returned to active service just in time to be a part of the protracted negotiations. Blair thought it was fitting, somehow, that Tolwyn played a role in the final triumph. Though he never agreed with the man's style or motivations, Admiral Geoff Tolwyn was a central figure in the Confederation resistance throughout the war, and it was only right that he should see it through to the very end. His nephew, Kevin, was also among the host of aides and assistants, and Eisen's dark craggy features were visible at the table as well. Among the Kilrathi, the only one Blair recognized was Melek, but the ornamentation of the other Imperial delegates made it plain that they represented a cross-section of important surviving nobles and military leaders.
Barbara Miles continued her voice-over report. "Following the incredible raid which led to the destruction of the Imperial homeworld, Kilrah, the Kilrathi decision to sue for peace was greeted with excited celebrations throughout human space. After months of peace talks deliberating a final settlement, the initial cease-fire was finally converted to a lasting peace through the Kilrathi acceptance of the Treaty Of Torgo."
The view switched back to a head-and-shoulder shot of Barbara Miles. "TNC attempted to contact the pilot who carried out the Kilrah raid for his reaction to the peace treaty, but Colonel Christopher Blair was unavailable for comment. We will have further details on the signing of the peace treaty later in this Infoburst . . ."
Blair switched off the newspad and glanced out the port beside him. The shuttle began its descent now, crossing the terminator just as the dawning sun lit below the curved blue and white arc of the planet.
Earth . . .
He had dedicated his entire adult life to defending her, and now the long battle was over. And despite Melek's fears of another alien empire beyond the Kilrathi sphere threatening future wars, Blair knew his own days as a warrior were over. After a well-deserved period of leave, he was slated to go on the inactive list so that he could begin a new career, serving with the diplomatic staff that would soon begin work turning the abstract peace treaty with the Empire into solid, working reality. Henceforth Christopher Blair would be a warrior in the cause of peace, fighting a new kind of battle to ensure that all of his fallen comrades — Angel and Flint, Vaquero, and Hunter and Iceman, Cobra and Flash and all the rest, even Hobbes — had not died in vain.
It was a daunting challenge, but Blair would not be facing it alone.
She hurried down the aisle as the seatbelt warnings flashed on the forward bulkhead. Blair met her eyes, and they shared a smile.
"What would you like to do first, after we're down?" he asked, strapping her in.
Rachel Coriolis took his hand in hers. "I'd like to take a long walk along the seashore," she said, "with wet sand between my toes . . . and no bulkheads or metal decks or spare parts in sight."
"Sounds good to me, Blair told her, settling into his seat and closing his eyes. The others were all still there, in his mind, but no longer demanding or clamoring. They — and he — had finally discovered peace.
1995