“Does it show? The fear?”
“Not much.”
Vorgens ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “You heard what Okatar said. The other Komani clans are in league with him. This is the beginning of a galaxywide war.”
Sittas shook his head. “Not necessarily. The other clans may be giving him some aid, and no doubt they are giving him considerable encouragement, but they will not move in force until it becomes clear that the Empire is too weak to stop them.”
“If the Mobile Force is wiped out, that would be their signal, wouldn’t it?”
“It could be.”
“They’ll attack tomorrow morning, for certain,” Vorgens said. ‘They’ve got more men and equipment than Aikens dreams they have. If he stands and fights in that valley, we’ll lose Shinar and the whole Komani nation will begin to march against the Empire.”
But Sittas was no longer listening. He was standing at the doorway of the tent, looking out. The late afternoon sun slanting through the doorway touched his wispy hair and gave him a modest halo.
Vorgens stood up. “Well, when is the firing squad coming? Or do they like to let their victims dangle for a few hours?”
“Death comes to us all, my friend,” Sittas murmured, still gazing intently outward.
“It’s odd,” Vorgens said, pacing across the tent floor, “I never thought about how I would die. I’ve been aboard starships that have run into trouble—real trouble. And yesterday, in battle, and last night, helping Mclntyre and Giradaux to escape, I was frightened, alT right, but the thought of death—my death—it just never entered my mind. But now … I never thought I would die before a firing squad—on a planet I didn’t even know existed until a few weeks ago.”