Wing Commander #07 False Color William Forstchen (top 10 books to read .txt) 📖

now . . . ever since the Kilrathi raid the planet had been growing increasingly strident in its demands for more support from the government, and the delegates of Ilios had been among his strongest supporters until now. If he could have paid a personal visit, shown the flag and put the defenses in order, he might have done some real good. But he was shackled by politics to this planet, this city, this god-awful Council Hall.

Max Kruger was getting heartily sick of politics. Landreich's political system was a lot like other aspects of its frontier society—loud, frantic, and lacking in dignity. Though Kruger was no respecter of dignity himself, he sometimes wondered how the Republic had stood this long when it was run by a group of determined individualists like the members of his Council of Delegates.

He straightened up from his chair and looked out at the tiered benches that dominated the floor of the Hall. Most of the Delegates were on their way out, still carrying on noisy and often violent speech as they elbowed their way out into the antechamber. It had only been a few months since one such passionate post-session debate had led to the senior delegate from Ilios pulling a knife on one of the delegates from Tara. Today passions were running nearly as high as they had that day, but so far there was no sign that anyone was considering turning a political debate into anything more fractious.

A stocky, richly dressed delegate met his eye from near the front of the Hall. Kruger suppressed a fleeting moment of distaste and stepped down from the platform to approach the man. He didn't like Daniel Webster Galbraith, but he couldn't let that stop him from being civil to the man. After all, he commanded more wealth and power than most of the rest of the delegates put together. And before his faction had parted ranks with Kruger's administration after Ko-bar Yagar, Galbraith had bailed the Landreich out of one fiscal crisis after another.

He owed the man plenty . . . and Galbraith wasn't the kind to let him forget it.

"Well, Max," the industrialist-turned-politician said with a genial smile. "Glad to see you can still shout down a delegate when you have to. Ismat Bayulkin isn't exactly noted for his restraint, after all."

"He had a point," Kruger said. "Damn it, Ilios really is hanging right out on the edge of the Cat frontier.

But that's no reason to start trying to conduct naval operations from the floor of the Hall. I know they feel exposed. I just can't let people like Bayulkin think they can take charge of the armed forces by virtue of their political ranks."

Galbraith smiled. "Saving that sort of thing for yourself, eh, Max?"

Kruger felt a flare of temper building inside himself. "I could do a lot more good out there than I'm doing sitting here at home listening to all this endless talk," he growled.

"So? I'm not the one who asked you to stay put. That was your own party. Frankly, I'd be happier if you'd let us get on with governing."

"What is it with you, Dan?" Kruger demanded. "A couple of years ago you were ready to do whatever it took to make things work. Now you're the leader of the Loyal Opposition . . . except half the time you aren't even particularly loyal any more. What happened?"

"Peace happened, Max. Or weren't you watching the holo-cast that night?"

"Peace. Right. You think Ragark's going to give us any peace?"

"You've been holding up Ragark as the boogieman for so long that nobody even believes he's real any more." Galbraith was looking exasperated. "Yeah, they've violated our territory a few times. We've violated theirs, too."

"And Ilios? Was that a 'violation of territory'?"

"The confees call it piracy."

"So now you're listening to the confees?" Kruger glared at the man. "We have plenty of evidence it was Kilrathi on Ilios, Dan. Why won't you admit it?"

"Evidence can be faked. Or suppressed. There were plenty of indications of piracy in that attack on the outpost at Balthazar. But you were so convinced the Cats were involved you closed your eyes to the whole thing." Galbraith looked away. "I'm sorry, Max. Genuinely sorry. In your day you were just what the Landreich needed. A military man who could stand up to the Cats and the confees both . . . and a real live war hero we could all look up to. But times are changing, Max. We need a leader who doesn't drop everything to charge off after glory every time things get boring in the capitol. We need somebody who isn't fixated on fighting the Cats or insulting the confees. Statesmanship is what we need now, not gunboat diplomacy."

"So you think it's time to put me out to pasture,

eh?" Kruger shook his head. "You're wrong, Dan. It's still a dangerous universe out there. Now that the Confederation's out of the game we've got to look out for ourselves. All this nonsense your bunch has been spouting about defense cuts is worse than just bad. It's treason!"

"Treason? I'll tell you about treason!" Galbraith, normally so suave and urbane, was agitated now. "Treason is frittering away the Republic's cash reserves on all your new toys. What is it now? Four new cruisers and three escort carriers? Or are there more I haven't heard about yet? Independence, Magna Carta, Arbroath ... do you have to buy up every carrier the confees don't want any more? And then there's this mysterious Project Goliath. You've had us voting funds for a damned pig in a poke! Don't you realize that we just don't have the money to spend on building up the fleet to the size you want? I made some godawful big loans to keep you afloat. If I called them in now, with the Treasury in the shape it's in, the Republic would fold."

"Is that a threat?"

Galbraith shook his head. "No . . . just a warning. I'm not the