Imperial Stars 1-The Stars at War Read Free Page A

flags and an imperial majesty. On the other hand, even when you have all those, you may not have a real empire. The Great Mogul Emperor, descendent of Babur the Tiger, held his throne long after his word ceased to be obeyed outside his own palace; while the British built themselves quite a good empire long before they acknowledged what they had. It was an empire acquired almost by accident through a private company, and regularized only after the Great Sepoy Revolt. Once regularized it endured, of course. It was abandoned only when the Britons tired of rule.
    In this classic tale Algis Budrys speaks of a time when mankind has been united, but has yet to find a place among the stars.
     

In Clouds Of Glory
Algis Budrys
"We are the men of the Agency—
We're steadfast, stout-hearted, and brave.
For a buck we will duck
Through the worst that may come,
And argue the price of a grave.

"Oh, we are the Agency's bravos—
We peddle the wealth of our skill.
We will rescue your world or destroy it,
Depending on who foots the bill."
    Anonymous

Chapter One
    The tidy little orchestra finished the dance set and broke up, leaving behind the quartet nucleus, which began Schubert's "Fourteenth." The party guests dispersed through the room, talking in groups while the servants passed among them with refreshments.
    Thaddeus Demaris brooded solemnly in a heavy chair near the fireplace, half-listening to the two well-kept men conversing nearby. One of them was Walker Holtz, the hunter. The other was Captain Romney Oxford, of Her Canadian Majesty's Legation in Detroit.
    Walker Holtz fingered the stem of his boutonniere and took a sip of his liqueur. He leaned against the mantelpiece, let his eyes flick negligently over the crowd, and resumed his conversation.
    "My dear Captain Oxford, I'll grant you artillery. Artillery and, in certain circumstances, infantry, But not aircraft. The British had the quality and the Americans the quantity."
    "I don't see how you can say that," Oxford countered. He took a gulp of his drink and set it down firmly. "What about the Trans-Polar Campaign?"
    Holtz raised his eyebrows. "I think it's generally accepted that Vitkovsky was able to commit his reserve fighter wings only because the Alaskan Air Command of the old United States Air Force was snowed in."
    Oxford granted the point easily. "Quite so. And then Vitkovsky's transports would have suffered, say sixty percent interceptions over Quebec?"
    "You're being generous, Captain," Holtz rejoindered. He inhaled gently over his glass before raising it to his lips. "I would have said fifty."
    Oxford brushed the polite quibble aside with a graceful wave of his hand.
     
    In his chair, Demaris smiled bitterly and scornfully. These men with their heads for the facts and figures of ancient military history—how many of them had ever heard a shot fired in anger?
    "Well, then," Oxford was saying, scoring his point, "I should like to remind you, Colonel Holtz, that Vitkovsky's plan necessarily allowed for seventy percent interceptions. As it finally transpired, so many surplus troops landed in Illinois that an emergency quartermaster and clerical staff had to be flown in."
    Holtz frowned, discomfitted.
    Demaris stood up impatiently and snatched a liqueur from a passing servant's tray. The heavily flavored cordial bit at his tongue.
    And for all the battles won in parlors and drawing rooms, where was Earth's frontier today?
    His lip curled. He swung around and stabbed an extended forefinger at the startled Oxford. "I should like to point out," he bit off in the astonished man's face, "that what you have just cited was the USSR's suicidal policy of wasting men, not the superiority of its air arm, which was consistently hampered and eventually destroyed by a typical Russian insistence on trying to make a rapier do a bludgeon's work."
    Holtz stepped between them, his temples throbbing and his nostrils white. "You are ungentle, sir."
    Demaris looked at him coldly, a