“But these weapons are far inferior to ours of similar types. The probes also show this clearly.” That was Straha, shiplord of the 206th Emperor Yower. He ranked next highest among the shiplords after Kirel, and wanted to surpass him one day.
Kirel knew of Straha’s ambitions, too. He abandoned the posture of respect to scowl at his rival. “A great many of these weapons are in action, however, and more being manufactured all the time. Our supplies are limited to those we have fetched across the light-years.”
“Have the Tosevites atomics?” Straha jeered. “If other measures fail, we can batter them into submission.”
“Thereby reducing the value of the planet to the colonists who will follow us,” Kirel said.
“What would you have us do?” Straha said. “Boost for home, having accomplished nothing?”
“It is within the fleetlord’s power,” Kirel said stubbornly.
He was right; abandoning the invasion was within Atvar’s power. No censure would fall on him if he started back-no official censure. But instead of being remembered through all the ages as Atvar World conqueror, an epithet only two in the long history of the Race had borne before him, he would go down in the annals as Atvar Worldfleer, a title he would be the first to assume, but hardly one he craved.
His the responsibility. In the end, his choice was no choice. “The awakening and orientation of the troops has proceeded satisfactorily?” he asked the shiplords. He did not need their hisses of assent to know the answer to his question; he had been following computer reports since before the fleet took up orbit around Tosev 3. The Emperor’s weapons and warriors were ready.