-- Si-Rrit

Through the panoramic windows of Distant Trader's bridge the spidery gantries of the Patriarch's Dock loomed vast, scout ships and streamlined lighters gliding past transfer stations like swiftwings in a forest. Raarrgh-Captain and Lead-Pilot muttered back and forth to Docking Control as they slid into position. Behind them, Kchula-Tzaatz watched the scene spin slowly as the freighter gave way to a pair of Hunt class battleships, bulking huge as they cleared the docks, one behind the other. Their armored hulls slid past so close that Kchula could see the gunners in their turret blisters. He repressed the urge to duck, he could not allow himself to show fear in front of inferiors. Kzinhome itself backdropped the scene, a beautiful blue white sphere looming overhead, new continents coming into view with the ponderous grace of its rotation. Kchula-Tzaatz raked his claws across the vista. Soon, very soon now, it will be mine.

The battleships floated clear of the docking area, hung there for a long, pregnant moment as their navigators confirmed their courses, then vanished to pinpricks, eight-squared gravities of acceleration taking them out of sight in an eyeblink. An instant later they had faded to invisibility, heading for the edge of the system, for hyperspace, for death or glory on some unknown mission at the Patriarch's behest.

Kchula-Tzaatz purred to himself in ill-concealed pleasure. Two less to deal with when the time came, not that it mattered. Ship to ship battle against the might of the Rrit fleet was not the way to victory. It was cunning, not strength, that would bring him to power.

And before that could happen, he had to face his enemy. His purr faded and his ears flattened unconsciously. Before he could secure power he would have to face the Patriarch in his own stronghold. Already parts of the scheme were in motion. If any of them failed he would be vulnerable.

"Our arrival is late, Raarrgh-Captain." Not that it mattered, but upbraiding his subordinate served to relieve his worry.

"My apologies, sire. Traffic is heavy." Raarrgh-Captain showed a disappointing lack of submission in his reply, concentrated as he was on the docking procedures.

Kchula twitched his tail in ill-suppressed agitation, unable to think of a reason to castigate Lead-Pilot as well. Finally he turned on his heel and strode from the navigation bridge to the command deck.

"Telepath!"

Kchula's Telepath lolled on a low prrstet in a corner, eyes partially unfocused and carrying the yellowish staining characteristic of his addiction to the sthondat lymph extract that brought his powers to life and chained him to a live of statusless servitude.

"Sire!" The bleary eyes struggled to focus.

"What is in the Patriarch's mind?"

The eyes unfocused and Telepath drifted away long enough for Kchula to become impatient. Eventually he came back to awareness. "Apologies, sire. The range is far too great and my talents are not that strong."

Kchula snarled. "Don't dishonor yourself with deception, I can tell when your mind is connected."

"I sense only Patriarch's Telepath, sire, his presence is great even here."

"Well, what is that sthondat thinking then?"

"I sense only his presence. His mind is too strong to penetrate. He blocks his thoughts from me, and the thoughts of those around him."

Kchula kicked at the hapless addict. "What use are you?"

"I serve to the best of my abilities, sire."

"Useless cur!" He aimed another kick at Telepath, who cringed backward.

Ftzaal-Tzaatz moved forward, black fur over lean muscles. He raised a paw to intercede.

"Telepath may yet prove a valuable resource, brother." His voice was a silky purr. "Perhaps patience is a valid approach here."

Kchula-Tzaatz slashed the air in annoyance. "You would counsel patience to a stone." Nevertheless he desisted in his assault on Telepath, who took the opportunity to infuse more sthondat extract. "I lack power. Why do I lack power? Because I am surrounded by incompetents. The Patriarch does not contend with such inadequacies."

"It is inevitable that Meerz-Rrit's resources exceed yours. Were it not so you would not desire his station."

"You give me empty philosophy, brother, you've spent too long with the Black Priest cult. I need information. I will be on that planet in his stronghold. I will be vulnerable, do you understand? What if we have been compromised?"

"We would know by now. The Patriarch would have acted and our informants would have passed on the information"

"Your faith in your informants is touching."

"I have no faith in any single source. But put together, yes, I am confident we would learn of anything important."

"Perhaps the Patriarch has laid a trap." Kchula's hind claws extended on their own, digging into the resilient flooring.

"Are you nervous, brother?" Ftzaal kept his voice carefully neutral.

"Nervous." Kchula looked up sharply, searching the black kzin's face for any sign of impertinence. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I and my Ftz'yeer will be your shield." Ftzaal lifted the ornately carved pommel of his variable sword from his belt and hefted it.

"As skilled as you are, two-eights of Ftz'yeer will not stand against a fortress full of Rrit."

"They will when the Rrit are busy defending the walls from our warriors. Great rewards demand great risks."

"Great risks are managed through control of information." Kchula snapped the words. "We lack any."

"We have what we need."

"Ktronaz-Commander's Heroes?" Kchula-Tzaatz changed the subject before it came any closer to his own fears

"They will leap on your command."

"The rapsar are prepared?"

"Rapsarmaster has been industrious. The beasts are thawed and ready, and the assassin is already in position."

"You are certain of that?"

"As certain as possible. It was launched, I have had no word of its interception."

"It is set then." Kchula paused, realizing that he was now merely hesitating. "Curse the Fanged God, I wish I knew what was in the Patriarch's mind." He spat at the now comatose Telepath.

"We have the traitor. If everything else fails the traitor will not."

"Yes, we have the traitor. Kchula breathed deep to calm himself. Ftzaal-Tzaatz's words were meant to soothe, and so he responded as if they had worked. There was no point letting his brother see concern turn to fear, but inwardly he remained unconvinced. There was always a balance to be struck between risk and reward. In this case the reward was tremendous, the risks… acceptable. In games of stealth you could never be sure who was the stalker and who the prey. The hidden blade was the deciding factor, but was the traitor really theirs?

There was no way to know, and no point in delaying. Kchula turned and strode back onto the navigation bridge. "Raarrgh-Captain, have my shuttle prepared!" His voice was harsher than it needed to be. Better they fear my wrath than sense my fear. Great rewards demand great risks, Kchula-Tzaatz well understood the dynamics of power. Usually he managed to arrange it so the reward fell to him while the risk fell to someone else. Not this time.